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SCIENCE AND CULTURE,

OTHER ESSAYS.

PROF. T. H, HUXLEY'S WORKS.

a,n<Z Outturn? a,n<Z oth,&r Essays. 12mo. Clotn.

b .- An Introduction to tho Study of Zo5logy.

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M f t/g&n f e. By T. H. HtrissLisne 1 and "Wl J".

SCIENCE AND CULTURE,

AND

OTHER ESSAYS.

BY

THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY, LL.D., F.E.S.

NEW YOBK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

1, 8, AN S BONO STBBBT.

1882.

PEE FACE.

THE Addresses, Lectures, and Essays gathered to-
gether in this volume have appeared at intervals dur-
ing the past seven years, and I can give no better
reason for republishing them in their present form,
than the fact that three earlier collections of a similar
nature have been received with favour, and, indeed,
have not yet ceased to be in request.

I beg leave to offer my best thanks to the Editors
and Publishers of the various publications in which
these pieces have appeared, for their Mndly accorded
permission to reprint them.

LONDON. October 1881.

PAGH

I. SCIENCE AND CULTURE 7

An Address delivered at the Opening of Sir Josiah Mason's
Science College, at Birmingham, on the 1st of October
1880.

II. UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL 31

The Inaugural Address of the Lord Rector of the University
of Aberdeen, February 27, 1874. Contemporary Jte~
view, 1874.

HI. -TECHNICAL EDUCATION 73

An Address delivered to the Working Men's Club and Insti-
tute, December 1, 1877. Nineteenth Century, 1878.

IV. ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY 94

Read at the Meeting of the Domestic Economy Congress at
Birmingham, 1877.

V. JOSEPH PRIESTLTCY 102

An Address delivered on the occasion of the Presentation of
a Statue of Priestley to the Town of Birmingham, on
the 1st of August 1874. Macmillan's Magazine, 1874.

VI. ON THE METHOD OF ZADIG 1$ 5

A Lecture delivered at the Working Men's College, Great

Ormond Street, 1880. Nineteenth Century, 1880.
VH. ON THE BORDER TERRITORY BETWEEN THE ANIMAL AND THE

VEGETABLE KINGDOMS 186

An Evening Lecture at the Royal Institution, Friday, Jan-
uary 28, 1870. Macmillan's Maffozine, 1874.

6 CONTENTS.

PAG1

VIII. ON CERTAIN ERRORS RESPECTING THE STRUCTURE OF THE HEART

ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE > 187

Nature, November 6, 1879.
IX. ON THE HYPOTHESIS THAT ANIMALS ARE AUTOMATA, AND ITS

HISTORY 206

An Address delivered at the Meeting of the British Associa-
tion for the Advancement of Science, at Belfast, 1874.
Fortnightly Review, 1874.
X. ON SENSATION AND THE UNITY OF STRUCTURE OF THE SENSIF-

EROUS ORGANS 253

An Evening Lecture at the Royal Institution, Friday, March
7, 1879. Nineteenth Cwtory, 1879.

XI. EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY 281

The Acyclopcedia Britannica, Ninth Edition, vol. viii. 1878.

XII.- THE COMING OP AGE OF "THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES" 317

An Evening Lecture at the Boyal Institution, Friday, April

9 ? 1880. Nature, 1880.

XIIL THE CONNECTION OF THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES WITH MEDICINE. 333
An Address delivered at the Meeting of the International
Medical Congress in London, August 9, 1881.

L

SCIENCE AND CULTUKE.

Six years ago, as some of my present hearers may
remember, I had the privilege of addressing a large
assemblage of the inhabitants of this city, who had
gathered together to do honour to the memory of their
famous townsman, Joseph Priestley ; * and, if any satis-
faction attaches to posthumous glory, we may hope that
the manes of the burnt-out philosopher were then finally
appeased.

"No man, however, who is endowed with a fair share
of common sense, and not more than a fair share of
vanity, will identify either contemporary or posthumous
fame with the highest good ; and Priestley's life leaves
no doubt that he, at any rate, set a much higher value
upon the advancement of knowledge, and the promotion
of that freedom of thought which is at once the cause
and the consequence of intellectual progress.

Hence I am disposed to think that, if Priestley could
be amongst us to-day, the occasion of our meeting would
afford him even greater pleasure than the proceedings
which celebrated the centenary of his chief discovery.

* See Joseph Priestley, p. 102, infra.

8 SCIENCE AND CULTUBE.

The kindly heart would be moved, the high sense of
social duty would be satisfied, by the spectacle of well-
earned wealth, neither squandered in tawdry luxury and
vainglorious show, nor scattered with the careless char-
ity which blesses neither him that gives nor him that
takes, but expended in the execution of a well-consid-
ered plan for the aid of present and future generations
of those who are willing to help themselves.

"We shall all be of one mind thus, far. But it is
needful to share Priestley's keen interest in physical
science; and to have learned, as he had learned, the
value of scientific training in fields of inquiry apparently
far remote from physical science; in order to appre-
ciate, as he would have appreciated, the value of the
noble gift which Sir Josiah Mason has bestowed upon
the inhabitants of the Midland district.

For us children of the nineteenth century, however,
the establishment of a college under the conditions of
Sir Josiah Mason's Trust, has a significance apart from
any which it could have possessed a hundred years ago.
It appears to be an indication that we are reaching the
crisis of the battle, or rather of the long series of bat-
tles, which have been fought over education in a cam-
paign which began long before Priestley's time, and will
probably not be finished just yet.

In the last century, the combatants were the cham-
pions of ancient literature, on the one side, and those of
modem literature on the other ; but, some thirty years *
* The advocacy of the introduction of physical science into general edu-

SCIENCE AND CULTUKE. 9

ago, the contest became complicated by the appearance
of a third army, ranged round the banner of Physical
Science.

I am not aware that any one has authority to speak
in the name of this new host. For it must be admitted
to be somewhat of a guerilla force, composed largely of
irregulars, each of whom fights pretty much for his own
hand. But the impressions of a full private, who has
seen a good deal of service in the ranks, respecting the
present position of affairs and the conditions of a per-
manent peace, may not be devoid of interest ; and I do
not know that I could make a better use of the present
opportunity than by laying them before you.

From the time that the first suggestion to introduce
physical science into ordinary education was timidly whis-
pered, until now, the advocates of scientific education
have met with opposition of two kinds. On the one
hand, they have been pooh-poohed by the men of busi-
ness who pride themselves on being the representatives
of practicality ; while, on the other hand, they have been
excommunicated by the classical scholars, in their ca-
pacity of Levites in charge of the ark of culture and
monopolists of liberal education.

The practical men believed that the idol whom they
worship rule of thumb has been the source of the
past prosperity, and will suffice for the future welfare

cation by George Combe and others commenced a good deal earlier ; but
the movement had acquired hardly any practical force before the time to
which I refer.

10 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

of the arts and manufactures. They were of opinion
that science is speculative rubbish ; that theory and prac-
tice have nothing to do with one another ; and that the
scientific habit of mind is an impediment, rather than an
aid, in the conduct of ordinary affairs.

I have used the past tense in speaking of the prac-
tical men for although they were very formidable thirty
years ago, I am not sure that the pure species has not
been extirpated. In fact, so far as mere argument goes,
they have been subjected to such a feu d'enfer that it
is a miracle if any have escaped. But I have remarked
that your typical practical man has an unexpected re-
semblance to one of Milton's angels. His spiritual
wounds, such as are inflicted by logical weapons, may
be as deep as a well and as wide as a church door, but
beyond shedding a few drops of ichor, celestial or other-
wise, he is no whit the worse. So, if any of these op-
ponents be left, I will not waste time in vain repetition
of the demonstrative evidence of the practical value of
science; but knowing that a parable will sometimes
penetrate where syllogisms fail to effect an entrance, I
will offer a story for their consideration.

Once upon a time, a boy, with nothing to depend
upon but his own vigorous nature, was thrown into tlio
thick of the struggle for existence in the midst of a
great manufacturing population. He seotas to have had
a hard fight, inasmuch as, by the time ho was thirty
years of age, his total disposable funds amounted to
twenty pounds. Nevertheless, middle life found Mm

SCIENCE AOT> CULTURE. H

giving proof of his comprehension of the practical prob-
lems he had been roughly called upon to solve, by a
career of remarkable prosperity.

Finally, having reached old age with its well-earned
surroundings of "honour, troops of friends," the hero
of my story bethought himself of those who were mak-
ing a like start in life, and how he could stretch out a
helping hand to them.

After long and anxious reflection this successful prac-
tical man of business could devise nothing better than
to provide them with the means of obtaining "sound,
extensive, and practical scientific knowledge." And he
devoted a large part of his wealth and five years of
incessant work to this end.

I need not point the moral of a tale which, as the
solid and spacious fabric of the Scientific College as-
sures us, is no fable, nor can anything which I could
say intensify the force of this practical answer to prac-
tical objections.

We may take it for granted then, that, in the opin-
ion of those best qualified to judge, the diffusion of
thorough scientific education is an absolutely essential
condition of industrial progress ; and that 'the College
which has been opened to-day will confer an inestima-
ble boon upon those whose livelihood is to be gained
by the practice of the arts and manufactures of the
district.

The only question worth discussion is, whether the

12 SCIENCE AND OULTUEE.

conditions, under which the work of the College is to
be carried out, are such as to give it the best possible
chance of achieving permanent success.

Sir Josiah Mason, without doubt most wisely, has
left very large freedom of action to the trustees, to
whom he proposes ultimately to commit the administra-
tion of the College, so that they may be able to adjust
its arrangements in accordance with the changing con-
ditions of the future. But, with respect to three points,
he has laid most explicit injunctions upon both admistra-
tors and teachers.

Party politics are forbidden to enter into the minds
of either, so far as the work of the College is concerned ;
theology is as sternly banished from its precincts ; and
finally, it is especially declared that the College shall
make no provision for "mere literary instruction and
education."

It does not concern me at present to dwell upon the
first two injunctions any longer than may be needful to
express my full conviction of their wisdom. But the
third prohibition brings us face to face with those other
opponents of scientific education, who are by no means
in the moribund condition of the practical man, but
alive, alert, and formidable.

It is not impossible that we shall hear this express
exclusion, of "literary instruction and education" from
a College which, nevertheless, professes to give a high
and efficient education, sharply criticised. Certainly the
time was that the Levites of culture would hare sounded

SCIENCE AND CULTURE. 13

their trumpets against its walls as against an educational
Jericho.

How often have we not been told that the study of
physical science is incompetent to confer culture; that
it touches none of the higher problems of life ; and, what
is worse, that the continual devotion to scientific studies
tends to generate a narrow and bigoted belief in the
applicability of scientific methods to the search after
truth of all kinds. How frequently one has reason to
observe that no reply to a troublesome argument tells
so well as calling its author a "mere scientific special-
ist." And, as I am afraid it is not permissible to speak
of this form of opposition to scientific education in the
past tense ; may we not expect to be told that this, not
only omission, but prohibition, of " mere literary instruc-
tion and education " is a patent example of scientific nar-
row-mindedness ?

I am not acquainted with Sir Josiah Mason's reasons
for the action which he has taken; but if, as I appre-
hend is the case, he refers to the ordinary classical course
of our schools and universities by the name of " mere
literary instruction and education," I venture to offer
sundry reasons of my own in support of that action.

For I hold very strongly by two convictions The
first is, that neither the discipline nor the subject-matter
of classical education is of such direct value to the stu-
dent of physical science as to justify the expenditure
of valuable time upon either; and the second is, that
for the purpose of attaining real culture, an exclusively

14: SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

"scientific education is at least as effectual as an exclu-
sively literary education.

I need hardly point out to you that these opinions,
especially the later, are diametrically opposed to those
of the great majority of educated Englishmen, influenced
as they are by school and university traditions. In their
belief, culture is obtainable only by a liberal education ;
and a liberal education is synonymous, not merely with
education and instruction in. literature, but in one par-
ticular form of literature, namely, that of Greek and
Eoman antiquity. They hold that the man who has
learned Latin and Greek, however little, is educated ;
while he who is versed in other branches of knowledge,
however deeply, is a more or less respectable specialist,
not admissible into the cultured caste. The stamp of
the educated man, the University degree, is not for him.

I am too well acquainted with the generous catho-
licity of spirit, the true sympathy with scientific thought,
which pervades the writings of our chief apostlo of cul-
ture to identify him with these opinions; and yet one
may cull from one and another of those epistles to the
Philistines, which so much delight all who do not an-
swer to that name, sentences which lend them some sup-
port.

Mr. Arnold tells us that the meaning of culture is
"to know the best that has boon thought and said in
the world." It is the criticism of life contained in
literature. That criticism regards " Europe as being,
for intellectual and spiritual purposes, one great con-

SCIENCE AKD CULTURE. 15

federation, bound to a joint action and working to a
common result ; and whose members have, for their com-
mon outfit, a knowledge of Greek, Boman, and Eastern
antiquity, and of one another. Special, local, and tem-
porary advantages being put out of account, that mod-
ern nation will in the intellectual and spiritual sphere
make most progress, which most thoroughly carries out
this programme. And what is that but saying that we
too, all of us, as individuals, the more thoroughly we
carry it out, shall make the more progress? 35 *

We have here to deal with two distinct propositions.
The first, that a criticism of life is the essence of culture ;
the second, that literature contains the materials which
suffice for the construction of such a criticism.

I think that we must all assent to the first proposi-
tion. For culture certainly means something quite dif-
ferent from learning or technical skill. It implies the
possession of an ideal, and the habit of critically esti-
mating the value of things by comparison with a theo-
retic standard. Perfect culture should supply a complete
theory of life, based upon a clear knowledge alike of its
possibilities and of its limitations.

But we may agree to all this, and yet strongly dissent
from the assumption that literature alone is competent
to supply this knowledge. After having learnt all that
Greek, Roman, and Eastern antiquity have thought and
said, and all that modern literatures have to tell us, it
is not self-evident that we have laid a sufficiently broad

* Mssays in Criticism^ p. 3*7.

16 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

and deep foundation for that criticism of life wliicli
constitutes culture.

Indeed, to any one acquainted with the scope of
physical science, it is not at all evident. Considering
progress only in. the " intellectual and spiritual sphere,"
I find myself wholly unable to admit that either nations
or individuals will really advance, if their common out-
fit draws nothing from the stores of physical science. I
should say that an army, without weapons of precision,
and with no particular base of operations, might more
hopefully enter upon a campaign on the Ehine, than a
man, devoid of a knowledge of what physical science has
done in the last century, upon a criticism of life.

"When a biologist meets with an anomaly, he in-
stinctively turns to the study of development to clear
it up. The rationale of contradictory opinions may
with equal confidence be sought in history.

It is, happily, no new thing that Englishmen should
employ their wealth in building and endowing institu-
tions for educational purposes. But, five or six hundred
years ago, deeds of foundation expressed or implied con-
ditions as nearly as possible contrary to those which have
been thought expedient by Sir Josiah Mason. That is
to say, physical science was practically ignored, while a
certain literary training was enjoined as a means to the
acquirement of knowledge which was essentially theo-
logical

The reason of this singular contradiction between the

SCIENCE AND CULTURE. 17

actions of men alike animated by a strong and disin-
terested desire to promote the welfare of their fellows,
is easily discovered.

At that time, in fact, if any one desired knowledge
beyond such as could be obtained by his own observa-
tion, or by common conversation, his first necessity was
to learn the Latin language, inasmuch as all the higher
knowledge of the western world was contained in works
written in that language. Hence, Latin grammar, with
logic and rhetoric, studied through Latin, were the fun-
damentals of education. With respect to the substance
of the knowledge imparted through this channel, the
Jewish and Christian Scriptures, as interpreted and sup-
plemented by the Romish Church, were held to contain
a complete and infallibly true body of information.

Theological dicta were, to the thinkers of those days,
that which the axioms and definitions of Euclid are to
the geometers of these. The business of the philosophers
of the middle ages was to deduce from the data furnished
by the theologians, conclusions in accordance with eccle-
siastical decrees. They were allowed the high privilege
of showing, by logical process, how and why that which
the Church said was true, must be true. And if their
demonstrations fell short of or exceeded this limit, the
Church was maternally ready to check their aberrations,
if need be, by the help of the secular arm.

Between the two, our ancestors were furnished with
a compact and complete criticism of life. They were
told how the world began, and how it would end ; they

18 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

learned that all material existence was but a base and in-
significant blot up6n the fair face of the spiritual world,
and that nature was, to all intents and purposes, the play-
ground of the devil ; they learned that the earth is the
centre of the visible universe, and that man is the cyno-
sure of things terrestrial ; and more especially is it in-
culcated 1 that the course of nature had no fixed order,
but that it could be, and constantly was, altered by the
agency of innumerable spiritual beings, good and bad,
according as they were moved by the deeds and prayers
of men. The sum and substance of the whole doctrine
was to produce the conviction that the only thing really
worth knowing in this world was how to secure that
place in a better which, under certain conditions, the
Church promised.

Oar ancestors had a living belief in this theory of
life, and acted upon it in their dealings with education,
as in all other matters. Culture meant saintlincss after"
the fashion of the saints of those days; the education
that led to it was, of necessity, theological ; and the way
to theology lay through Latin.

That the study of nature further than was requisite
for the satisfaction of everyday wants should have any
bearing on human life was far from the thoughts of men
thus trained. Indeed, as nature had been cursed for
man's sake, it was an obvious conclusion that those who
meddled with nature were likely to come into pretty
close contact with Satan. And, if any born scientific in-
vestigator followed his instincts, he might safely reckon

SCIENCE AND CULTURE. 19

upon earning the reputation, and probably npou suffering
the fate, of a sorcerer.

Had the western world been left to itself in Chinese
isolation, there is no saying how long this state of things
might haye endured. But, happily, it was not left to
itself. Even earlier than the thirteenth century, the de-
velopment of Moorish civilisation in Spain and the great
movement of the Crusades had introduced the leaven
which, from that day to this, has never ceased to work.
At first, through the intermediation of Arabic transla-
tions, afterwards, by the study of the originals, the west-
ern nations of Europe became acquainted with the writ-
ings of the ancient philosophers and poets, and, in time,
with the whole of the vast literature of antiquity.

Whatever there was of high intellectual aspiration or
dominant capacity in Italy, France, Germany, and Eng-
land, spent itself for centuries in taking possession of
the rich inheritance left by the dead civilisations of
Greece and Kome. Marvellously aided by the invention
of printing, classical learning spread and flourished.
Those who possessed it prided themselves on having at-
tained the highest culture then within the reach of man-
kind,

And justly. For, saving Dante on his solitary pin-
nacle, there was no figure in modem literature at the
time of the Renascence to compare with the men of anti-
quity ; there was no art to compete with their sculpture ;
there was no physical science but that which Greece had
created. Above all, there was no other example of per-

20 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

feet intellectual freedom of the unhesitating acceptance
of reason as the sole guide to truth and the supreme
arbiter of conduct.

The new learning necessarily soon exerted a profound
influence upon education. The language of the monks
and schoolmen seemed little better than gibberish to
scholars fresh from Virgil and Cicero, and the study of
Latin was placed upon a new foundation- Moreover,
Latin itself ceased to afford the sole key to knowledge.
The student who sought the highest thought of anti-
quity, found only a second-hand reflection of it in Ro-
man literature, and turned his face to the full light of
the Greeks. And after a battle, not altogether dissimilar
to that which is at present being fought over the teach-
ing of physical science, the study of Greek was recog-
nised as an essential element of all higher education.

Thus the Humanists, as they wore called, won the
day ; and the great reform which they effected was of
incalculable service to mankind* But the Nemesis of all
reformers is finality; and the reformers of education,
like those of religion, fell into the profound, however
common, error of mistaking the beginning for tlie end
of the work of reformation.

The representatives of the Humanists, in the nine-
teenth century, take their stand upon classical education
as the sole avenue to culture, as firmly as if we were still
in the age of Eenascence. Yet, surely, the present intel-
lectual relations of the modern and the ancient worlds
are profoundly different from those which obtained three

SCIENCE AKD CULTURE. 21

centuries ago. Leaving aside the existence of a great
and characteristically modern literature, of modern paint-
ing, and, especially, of modern music, there is one feat-
ure of the present state of the civilised world which
separates it more widely from the Renascence, than the
Renascence was separated from the middle ages.

This distinctive character of our own times lies in the
vast and constantly increasing part which is played by
natural knowledge. Not only is our daily life shaped by
it, not only does the prosperity of millions of men de-
pend upon it, but our whole theory of life has long been
influenced, consciously or unconsciously, by the general
conceptions of the universe, which have been forced
upon us by physical science.

In fact, the most elementary acquaintance with the
results of scientific investigation shows us that they offer
a broad and striking contradiction to the opinions so im-
plicitly credited and taught in the middle ages.

The notions of the beginning and the "end of the
world entertained by our forefathers are no longer cred-
ible. It is very certain that the earth is not the chief
body in the material universe, and that the world is not
subordinated to man's use. It is evert more certain that
nature is the expression of a definite order with which
nothing interferes, and that the chief business of man-
kind is to learn that order and govern themselves accord-
ingly. Moreover this scientific " criticism of life " pre-
sents itself to us with different credentials from any
other. It appeals not to authority, nor to what anybody

22 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

may have thought or said, but to nature. It admits that
all our interpretations of natural fact are more or less
imperfect and symbolic, and bids the learner seek for
truth not among words but among things. It warns us
that the assertion which outstrips evidence is not only
a blunder but a crime.

The purely classical education advocated by the rep-
resentatives of the Humanists in our day, gives no ink-
ling of all this. A man may be a. better scholar than
Erasmus, and know no more of the chief causes of the
present intellectual fermentation than Erasmus did.
Scholarly and pious persons, worthy of all respect, fa-
vour us with allocutions upon the sadness of the antag-
onism of science to their mediaeval way of thinking,
which betray an ignorance of the first principles of sci-
entific investigation, an incapacity for understanding
what a man of science means by veracity, and &n tin-
consciousness of the weight of established scientific
truths, which is almost comical.

There is no, great force in the tu gruogue argument,
or else the advocates of scientific education might fairly
enough retort upon the modern Humanists that they
may be learned specialists, but that they possess no such
sound foundation for a criticism of life as deserves the
name of culture. And, indeed, if we were disposed to
be cruel, we might urge that the Humanists have
brought this reproach upon themselves, not because they
are too full of the spirit of the ancient Greek, "but
because they lack it.

SCIENCE AND CULTUBE. 23

The period of the Eenascence is commonly called
that of the "Revival of Letters," as if the influences
then brought to bear upon the mind of "Western Europe
has been wholly exhausted in the field of literature. I
think it is very commonly forgotten that the revival of
science, effected by the same agency, although less con-
spicuous, was not less momentous.

In fact, the few and scattered students of nature of
that day picked up the clue to her secrets exactly as it
fell from the hands of the Greeks a thousand years
before. The foundations of mathematics were so well
laid by them, that our children learn their geometry
from a book written for the schools of Alexandria two
thousand years ago. Modern astronomy is the natural
continuation and development of the work of Hipparchus
and of Ptolemy ; modern physics of that of Demoeritus
and of Archimedes; it was long before modern bio-
logical science outgrew the knowledge bequeathed to us
by Aristotle, by Theophrastus, and by Galen.

We cannot know all the best thoughts and sayings
of the Greeks unless we know what they thought about
natural phenomena. We cannot fully apprehend their
criticism of life unless we understand the extent to
which that criticism was affected by scientific concep-
tions. We falsely pretend to be the inheritors of their
culture, unless we are penetrated, as the best nrinds
among them were, with an unhesitating faith that the
free employment of reason, in accordance with scientific
method, is the sole method of reaching truth.

24 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

Thus I venture to think that the pretensions of our
modern Humanists to the possession of the monopoly
of culture and to the exclusive inheritance of the spirit
of antiquity must be abated, if not abandoned. But I
should be very sorry that anything I have said should
be taken to imply a desire on my part to depreciate
the value of classical education, as it might be and as
it sometimes is. The native capacities of mankind vary
no less than their opportunities ; and while culture is
one, the road by -which one man may best reach it is
widely different from that which is most advantageous
to another. Again, while scientific education is yet in-
choate and tentative, classical education is thoroughly
well organised upon the practical experience of genera-
tions of teachers. So that, given ample time for learn-
ing and destination for ordinary life, or for a literary
career, I do not think that a young Englishman in
search of culture can do better than follow the course
usually marked out for him, supplementing its deficien-
cies by his own efforts.

But for those who mean to make science their seri-
ous occupation ; or who intend to follow the profession
of medicine ; or who have to enter early upon the busi-
ness of life; for all those, in my opinion, classical edu-
cation is a mistake ; and it is for this reason that I am
glad to see "mere literary education and instruction"
shut out from the curriculum of Sir Josiah Mason'B Col-
lege, seeing that its inclusion would probably lead to the in-
troduction of the ordinary smattering of Latin and Greek,

SCIENCE AND CULTUEE. ' 25

Nevertheless, I am the last person to question the
importance of genuine literary education, or to suppose
that intellectual culture can be complete without it. An
exclusively scientific training will bring about a mental
twist as surely as an exclusively literary training. The
value of the cargo does not compensate for a ship's being
out of trim ; and I should be very sorry to think that
the Scientific College would turn out none but lop-sided
men.

There is no need, however, that such a catastrophe
should happen. Instruction in English, French, and
German is provided, and thus the three greatest litera-
tures of the modern world are made accessible to the
student.

French and German, and especially the latter lan-
guage, are absolutely indispensable to those who desire
full knowledge in any department of science. But even
supposing that the knowledge of these languages ac-
quired is not more than sufficient for purely scientific
purposes,- every Englishman has, in his native tongue, an
almost perfect instrument of literary expression ; and, in
his own literature, models of every kind of literary ex-
cellence. If an Englishman cannot get literary culture
out of his Bible, his Shakspeare, his Milton, neither, in
my belief, will the profoundest study of Homer and
Sophocles, Virgil and Horace, give it to him.

Thus, since the constitution of the College makes
sufficient provision for literary as well as for scientific
education, and since artistic instruction is also contem-

26 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

plated, it seems to me that a fairly complete culture is
offered to all who are willing to take advantage of it.

But I am not sure that at this point the " practical "
man, scotched but not slain, may ask what all this talk
about culture has to do with an Institution, the object
of which is defined to be " to promote the prosperity of
the manufactures and the industry of the country."
He may suggest that what is wanted for this end is not
culture, nor even a purely scientific discipline, but sim-
ply a knowledge of applied science.

I often wish that this phrase, " applied science, 3 ' had
never been invented. For it suggests that there is a
sort of scientific knowledge of direct practical use, which
can be studied apart from another sort of scientific
knowledge, which is of no practical utility, and which
is termed "pure science." But there is no more com-
plete fallacy than this. "What people call applied science
is nothing but the application of pure science to par-
ticular classes of problems* It consists of deductions
from those general principles, established by reasoning
and observation^ which constitute pure science. N*o
one can safely make these deductions until ho has a
firm grasp of the principles; and he can obtain that
grasp only by personal experience of the operations
of observation and of reasoning on which they arc
founded.

Almost all the processes employed in the arts and
manufactures fall within the range either of physics or

SCIENCE AIsTD CULTURE. 37

of chemistry. In order to improve them, one must thor-
oughly understand them; and no one has a chance of
really understanding them, unless he has obtained that
mastery of principles and that habit of dealing with
facts, which is given by long-continued and well-directed
purely scientific training in the physical and the chemi-
cal laboratory. So that there really is no question as to
the necessity of purely scientific discipline, even if the
work of the College were limited by the narrowest in-
terpretation of its stated aims.

And, as to the desirableness of a wider culture than
that yielded by science alone, it is to be recollected that
the improvement of manufacturing processes is only one
of the conditions which contribute to the prosperity of
industry. Industry is a means and not an end; and
mankind work only to get something which they want.
What that something is depends partly on their innate,
and partly on their acquired, desires.

If the w r ealth resulting from prosperous industry is
to be spent upon the gratification of unworthy desires, if
the increasing perfection of manufacturing processes is
to be accompanied by an increasing debasement of those
who carry them on, I do not see the good of industry
and prosperity.

Now it is perfectly true that men's views of what
is desirable depend upon their characters ; and that the
innate proclivities to which we give that name are not
touched by any amount of instruction. But it does not
follow that even mere intellectual education may not, to

28 SCIENCE AFD CULTUKE.

an indefinite extent, modify the practical manifestation
of the characters of men in their actions, by supplying
them with motives unknown to the ignorant. A pleas-
ure-loving character will have pleasure of some sort ;
but, if you give him the choice, he may prefer pleasures
which do not degrade him to those which do. And this
choice is offered to every man, who possesses in literary
or artistic culture a never-failing source of pleasures,
which are neither withered by age, nor staled by cus-
tom, nor embittered in the recollection by the pangs of
self-reproach.

If the Institution opened to-day fulfils the intention
of its founder, the picked intelligences among all classes
of the population of this district will pass through it.
No child born in Birmingham, henceforward, if he have
the capacity to profit by the opportunities offered to
him, first in the primary and other schools, and after-
wards in the Scientific College, need fail to obtain, not
merely the instruction, but the culture most appropriate
to the conditions of his life.

Within these walls, the future employer and the
future artisan may sojourn together for a while, and
carry, through all their lives, the stamp of the influences
then brought to bear upon them. Hence, it is not
beside the mark to remind you, that the prosperity of
industry depends not merely upon the improvement of
manufacturing processes, not merely upon the ennobling
of the individual character, but upon a third condition,
namely, a clear understanding of the conditions of social

SCIENCE AND CULTURE. 29

life on the part of both the capitalist and the operative,
and their agreement upon common principles of social
action. They must learn that social phenomena are as
much the expression of natural laws as any others ; that
no social arrangements can be permanent unless they
harmonise with the requirements of social statics and
dynamics ; and that, in the nature of things, there is an
arbiter whose decisions execute themselves.

But this knowledge is only to be obtained by the
application of the methods of investigation adopted in
physical researches to the investigation of the phe-
nomena of society. Hence, I confess, I should like to see
one addition made to the excellent scheme of education
propounded for the College, in the shape of provision for
the teaching of Sociology. For though we are all agreed
that party politics are to have no place in the instruction,
of the College ; yet in this country, practically governed
as it is now by universal suffrage, every man who does
his duty must exercise political functions. And, if the
evils which are inseparable from the good of political
liberty are to be checked, if the perpetual oscillation of
nations between anarchy and despotism is to be replaced
by the steady march of self -restraining freedom ; it will
be because men will gradually bring themselves to deal
with political, as they now deal with scientific questions ;
to be as ashamed of undue haste and partisan prejudice
in the one case as in the other ; and to believe that the
machinery of society is at least as delicate as that of a
spinning-jenny, and as little likely to be improved by the

30 SCIENCE AND CULTURE.

meddling of those who have not taken the trouble to
master the principles of its action.

In conclusion, I am sure that I make myself the
mouthpiece of all present in offering to the venerable
founder of the Institution, which now commences its
beneficent career, our congratulations on the completion
of his work ; and in expressing the conviction, that the
remotest posterity will point to it as a crucial instance of
the wisdom which natural piety leads all men to ascribe
to their ancestors.

II.

UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

ELECTED by tlie suffrages of your four Nations, Rector
of the ancient University of which you are scholars, I
take the earliest opportunity which has presented itself
since my restoration to health, of delivering the Address
which, by long custom, is expected of the holder of
my office.

My first duty in opening that Address, is to offer
you my most hearty thanks for the signal honour you
have conferred upon me an honour of which, as a man
unconnected with you by personal or by national ties,
devoid of political distinction, and a plebeian who stands
by his order, I could not have dreamed. And it was the
more surprising to me, as the five-and-twenty years
which have passed over my head since I reached intel-
lectual manhood, have been largely spent in no half-
hearted advocacy of doctrines which have not yet found
favour in the eyes of Academic respectability; so that,
when the proposal to nominate me for your Kector came,
I was almost as much astonished as was Hal o 3 the
"Wynd, "who fought for his own hand," by the Black
Douglas's proffer of knighthood. And I fear that my

32 UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AM) IDEAL.

acceptance must be taken as evidence that, less wise than
the Armourer of Perth, I have not yet done with sol-
diering.

In fact, if, for a moment, I imagined that your in-
tention was simply, in the kindness of your hearts, to
do me honour; and that the Hector of your Univer-
sity, like that of some other Universities, was one of
those happy beings who sit in glory for three years, with
nothing to do for it save the making of a speech, a con-
versation with my distinguished predecessor soon dis-
pelled the dream. I found that, by the constitution of
the University of Aberdeen, the incumbent of the Rec-
torate is, if not a power, at any rate a potential energy ;
and that, whatever may be his chances of success or fail-
ure, it is his duty to convert that potential energy into
a living force, directed towards such ends as may seem
to him conducive to the welfare of the corporation of
which he is the theoretical head.

I need not tell you that your late Lord Rector took
this view of his position, and acted upon it with the
comprehensive, far-seeing insight into the actual condi-
tion and tendencies, not merely of his own, but of other
countries, which is his honourable characteristic among
statesmen. I have already done my best, and, as long
as I hold my office, I shall continue my endeavours, to
follow in the path which he trod; to do what in me
lies, to bring this University nearer to the ideal alas,
that I should be obliged to say ideal of all Universi-
ties; whichj as I conceive, should bo places in which

UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 33

thought is free from all fetters ; and in which all sources
of knowledge, and all aids to learning, should be acces-
sible to all comers, without distinction of creed or coun-
try, riches or poverty.

Do not suppose, however, that I am sanguine enough
to expect much to come of any poor efforts of mine.
If your annals take any notice of my incumbency, I
shall probably go down to posterity as the Rector who
was always beaten. But if they add, as I think they
will, that my defeats became victories in the hands of
my successors, I 7 shall be well content.

The scenes are shifting in the great theatre of the
world. The act which commenced with the Protestant
Reformation is nearly played out, and a wider and a
deeper change than that effected three centuries ago a
reformation, or rather a revolution of thought, the ex-
tremes of which are represented by the intellectual heirs
of John of Leyden and of Ignatius Loyola, rather than
by those of Luther and of Leo is waiting to come on,
nay, visible behind the scenes to those who have good
eyes. Men are beginning, once more, to awake to the
fact that matters of belief and of speculation are of ab-
solutely infinite practical importance ; and are drawing
off from that sunny country "where it is always after-
noon" the sleepy hollow of broad indifferentism to
range themselves under their natural banners. Change
is in the air. It is whirling feather-heads into all sorts
of eccentric orbits, and filling the steadiest with a sense

34: UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

of insecurity. It insists on reopening all questions and
asking all institutions, however venerable, by what right
they exist, and whether they are, or are not, in harmony
with the real or supposed wants of mankind. And it
is remarkable that these searching inquiries are not so
much forced on institutions from without, as developed
from within. Consummate scholars question the value
of learning ; priests contemn dogma ; and women turn
their backs upon man's ideal of perfect womanhood,
and seek satisfaction in apocalyptic visions of some, as
yet unrealised, epicene reality. *"

If there be a type of stability in this world, one
would be inclined to look for it in the old Universities
of England. But it has been my business of late to hear
a good deal about what is going on in these famous
corporations; and I have been filled with astonishment
by the evidences of internal fermentation which they
exhibit. If Gibbon could revisit the ancient scat of
learning of which he has written so cavalierly, assuredly
he would no longer speak of "the monks of Oxford
sunk in prejudice and port." There, as elsewhere, port
has gone out of fashion, and so has prejudice at least
that particular fine, old, crusted sort of prejudice to
which the great historian alludes.

Indeed, things are moving so fast in Oxford and
Cambridge, that, for my part, I rejoiced when the Royal
Commission, of which I am a member, had finished and
presented the Report which related to these Universi-
ties; for we should have looked like mere plagiarists,

UOTYEESITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 35

if, in consequence of a little longer delay in issuing it,
all the measures of reform we proposed had been an-
ticipated by the spontaneous action of the Universities
themselves.

A month ago I should have gone on to say that one
might speedily expect changes of another kind in Ox-
ford and Cambridge. A Commission has been inquir-
ing into the revenues of the many wealthy societies, in
more or less direct connection with the Universities,
resident in those towns. It is said that the Commis-
sion has reported, and that, for the first time in recorded
history, the nation, and perhaps the Colleges themselves,
will know what they are worth. And it was announced
that a statesman, who, whatever his other merits or de-
fects, has aims above the level of mere party fighting,
and a clear vision into the most complex practical prob-
lems, meant to deal with these revenues.

But, Sos locutus est. That mysterious independent
variable of political calculation, Public Opinion which
some whisper is, in the present case, very much the
same thing as publican's opinion has willed otherwise.
The Heads may return to their wonted slumbers at
any rate for a space.

Is the spirit of change, which is working thus vigor-
ously in the South, likely to affect the Northern Uni-
versities, and if so, to what extent? The violence of
fermentation depends, not so much on the quantity of
the yeast, as on the composition of the wort, and its
richness in fermentable material ; and, as a preliminary

36 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

to the discussion of this question, I venture to call to
your minds the essential and fundamental differences
between the Scottish and the English type of Univer-
sity.

Do not charge me with anything worse than official
egotism, if I say that these differences appear to be
largely symbolised by my own existence. There is no
Eector in an English University. Now, the organisa-
tion of the members of an University into Nations,
with their elective Hector, is the last relic of the primi-
tive constitution of Universities. The Kectorate was
the most important of all offices in that University of
Paris, upon the model of which the University of Aber-
deen was fashioned; and which was certainly a great
and flourishing institution in the twelfth century.

Enthusiasts for the antiquity of one of the two
acknowledged parents of all Universities, indeed, do
not hesitate to trace the origin of the " Stadium Parisi-
ense" up to that wonderful king of the Franks and
Lombards, Karl, surnamed the Great, whom wo all
called Charlemagne, and believed to be a Frenchman,
until a learned historian, by benelicent iteration, taught
us better. Karl is said not to have been much of a
scholar himself, but he had the wisdom of winch knowl-
edge is only the servitor. And that wisdom enabled
him to see that ignorance is one of the roots of all
evil

In the Capitulary which enjoins the foundation of
monasterial and cathedral schools, he says; "Eight ac-

UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 3?

tion is better than knowledge ; but in order to do what
is right, we must know what is right." * An irre-
fragable truth, I fancy. Acting upon it, the king
took pretty full compulsory powers, and carried into
effect a really considerable and effectual scheme of ele-
mentary education through, the length and breadth of
his dominions.

No doubt the idolaters out by the Elbe, in what is
now part of Prussia, objected to the Frankish king's
measures; no doubt the priests, who had never hesi-
tated about sacrificing all unbelievers in their fantastic
deities and futile conjurations, were the loudest in chant-
ing the virtues of toleration ; no doubt they denounced
as a cruel persecutor the man who would not allow
them, however sincere they might be, to go on spread-
ing delusions which debased the intellect, as much as
they deadened the moral sense, and undermined the
bonds of civil allegiance ; no doubt, if they had lived
in these times, they would have been able to show,
with ease, that the king's proceedings were totally con-
trary to the best liberal principles. But it may be said,
in justification of the Teutonic ruler, first, that he was
born before those principles, and did not suspect that
the best way of getting disorder into order was to let
it alone; and, secondly, that his rough and question-
able proceedings did, more or less, bring about the end

* " Quamvis cnim melius sit bene facere qtiam nosse, prius tatnen.
est nosse quam facere." "Karoli Magni Regis Constitutio de Scholia
per singula Episcopia et Monasteria instituendis," addressed to the Abbot
of Fulda. Baluzius, *' Oapitulana Regum Francorum," T. L, p. 202.

38 UNIYEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

lie liad in view. For, in a couple of centuries, the
schools lie sowed broadcast produced their crop of men,
thirsting for knowledge and craving for culture. Such
men gravitating towards Paris, as a light amidst the
darkness of evil days, from Germany, from Spain, from.
Britain, and from Scandinavia, came together by natu-
ral affinity. By degrees they banded themselves into
a society, which, as its end was the knowledge of all
things knowable, called itself a "Studiwn General $"
and when it had grown into a recognised corporation,
acquired the name of " Uniwrsitas Studii Gcneralis"
which, mark you, means not a " Useful Knowledge So-
ciety," but a " Knowledge-of -things-in-general Society."

And thus the first "University," at any rate on
this side of the Alps, came into being. Originally it
had but one Faculty, that of Arts. Its aim was to be
a centre of knowledge and culture ; not to be, in any
sense, a technical school.

The scholars seem to have studied Grammar, Logic,
and Rhetoric; Arithmetic and Geometry; Astronomy;
Theology; and Music. Thus, their work, however im-
perfect and faulty, judged by modem lights, it may
have been, brought them face to face with all the
leading aspects of the many-sided mind of man. For
these studies did -really contain, at any rate in embryo
sometimes, it may be, in caricattiro what wo now
call Philosophy, Mathematical and Physical Science,
and Art. And I doubt if the curriculum of any mod-
ern University shows so clear and generous a eompro

UNIVEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 39

tension of what is meant by culture, as this old Tri-
vium and Quadrivium does.

The students who had passed through the Univer-
sity course, and had proved themselves competent to
teach, became masters and teachers of their younger
brethren. "Whence the distinction of Masters and Ee-
gents on the one hand, and Scholars on the other.

Rapid growth necessitated organisation. The Mas-
ters and Scholars of various tongues and countries
grouped themselves into four Nations ; and the Nations,
by their own votes at first, and subsequently by those
of their Procurators, or representatives, elected their
supreme head and governor, the Hector at that time
the sole representative of the University, and a very
real power, who could defy Provosts interfering from
without; or could inflict even corporal punishment on
disobedient members within the University.

Such was the primitive constitution of the Univer-
sity of Paris. It is in reference to this original state of
things that I have spoken of the Electorate, and all that
appertains to it, as the sole relic of that constitution.

But this original organisation did not last long.
Society was not then, any more than it is now, patient
of culture, as such. It says to everything, " Be useful
to me, or away with you." And to the learned, the
unlearned man said then, as he does now, "What is
the use of all your learning, unless you can tell me
what I want to know? I am here blindly groping
about, and constantly damaging myself by collision

40 UinVEBSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

witli three mighty powers, the power of the invisible
God, the power of my fellow Man, and the power of
brute Nature. Let your learning be turned to the
study of these powers, that I may know how I am to
comport myself with regard to them." In answer to
this demand, some of the Masters of the Faculty of
Arts devoted themselves to the study of Theology,
some to that of Law, and some to that of Medicine ;
and they became Doctors men learned in those tech-
nical, or, as we now call them, professional, branches
of knowledge. Like cleaving to like, the Doctors formed
schools, or Faculties, of Theology, Law, and Medicine,
which sometimes assumed airs of superiority over their
parent, the Faculty of Arts, though the latter always
asserted and maintained its fundamental supremacy.

The Faculties arose by process of natural differentia-
tion out of the primitive University. Other constitu-
ents, foreign to its nature, were speedily grafted upon
it. One of these extraneous elements was forced into
it by the Roman Church, which in those days assorted
with effect, that which it now asserts, happily without
any effect in these realms, its right of censorship and
control over all teaching. The local habitation of the
University lay partly in the lands attached to the monas-
tery of S. Genevi&ve, partly in the diocoao of the Bishop
of Paris ; and he who would teach must have the licence
of the Abhot, or of the Bishop, as the nearest representa-
tive of the Pope, so to do, which licence was granted by
the Chancellors of these Ecclesiastics.

UN IVEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 41

Thus, if I am what archaeologists call a " survival "
of the primitive head and ruler of the University, your
Chancellor stands in the same relation to the Papacy;
and, with all respect for his Grace, I think I may say
that we both look terribly shrunken when compared
with our great originals.

Not so is it with a second foreign element, which
silently dropped into the soil of Universities, like the
grain of mustard-seed in the parable; and, like that
grain, grew into a tree 3 in whose branches a whole aviary
of fowls took shelter. That element is the element of
Endowment. It differed from the preceding, in its
original design to serve as a prop to the young plant, not
to be a parasite upon it. The charitable and the humane,
blessed with wealth, were very early penetrated by the
misery of the poor student. And the wise saw that in-
tellectual ability is not so common or so unimportant a
gift that it should be allowed to run to waste upon mere
handicrafts and chares. The man who was a blessing to
his contemporaries, but who so often has been converted
into a curse, by the blind adherence of his posterity to
the letter, rather than to the spirit, of his wishes I mean
the "pious founder" gave money and lands, that the
student, who was rich in brain and poor in all else, might
be taken from the plough or from the stithy, and enabled
to devote himself to the higher service of mankind ; and
built colleges and halls in which he might be not only
housed and fed, but taught.

The Colleges were very generally placed in strict

42 UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

subordination to the University by their founders ; but,
in many cases, their endowment, consisting of land, has
undergone an "unearned increment/' which has given
these societies a continually increasing weight and im-
portance as against the unendowed, or fixedly endowed,
University. In Pharaoh's dream, the seven lean kino
eat up the seven fat ones. In the reality of historical
fact, the fat Colleges have eaten up the lean Universities.

Even here in Aberdeen, though the causes at work
may have been somewhat different, the effects have been
similar; and you see how much more substantial an
entity is the Yery Eeverend the Principal, analogue, if
not homologue, of the Principals of King's College, than
the Rector, lineal representative of the ancient monarchs
of the University, though now, little more than a " king
of shreds and patches."

Do not suppose that, in thus briefly tracing the pro-
cess of University metamorphosis, I have had any inten-
tion of quarrelling with its results. Practically, it seems
to me that the broad changes eflcctcd in 1858 have given
the Scottish Universities a very liberal constitution, with
as much real approximation to the primitive state of
things as is at all desirable. If your fat kino have oaten
the lean, they have not lain down to chew tho cud over
since. The Scottish Universities, like the English, have
diverged widely enough from, their primitive model;
but I cannot help thinking that tho northern form has
remained more faithful to its original, not only in con-
stitution, but, what is more to the purpose, in view of

TOTI7EESITIES : ACTUAL AKD IDEAL. 43

the cry for change, in the practical application of the
endowments connected with it.

In Aberdeen, these endowments are numerous, but
so small that, taken altogether, they are not equal to
the revenue of a single third-rate English college. They
are scholarships, not fellowships; aids to do work not
rewards for such work as it lies within the reach of an
ordinary, or even an extraordinary, young man to do.
You do not think that passing a respectable examination
is a fair equivalent for an income, such as many a gray-
headed veteran, or clergyman, would envy ; and which
is larger than the endowment of many Eegius chairs.
You do not care to make your University a school of
manners for the rich; of sports for the athletic; or a
hot-bed of high-fed, hypercritical refinement, more de-
structive to vigour and originality than are starvation
and oppression. No; your little Bursaries of ten and
twenty (I believe even fifty) pounds a year, enable any
boy who has shown ability in the course of his education
in those remarkable primary schools, which have made
Scotland the power she is, to obtain the highest culture
the country can give him; and when, he is armed and
equipped, his Spartan Alma Mater tells him that, so far,
he has had his wages for his work, and that he may go
and earn the rest.

When I think of the host of pleasant, monied, well-
bred young gentlemen, who do a little learning and
much boating by Cam and Isis, the vision is a pleasant
one ; and, as a patriot, I rejoice that the youth of the

4:4; UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

upper and richer classes of the nation receive a -whole-
some and a manly training, however small may be the
modicum of knowledge they gather, in the intervals of
this, their serious business. I admit, to the full, the
social and political value of that training. But, when
I proceed to consider that these young men may be
said to represent the great bulk of what the Colleges
have to show for their enormous wealth, plus, at least,
a hundred and fifty pounds a year apiece which each
undergraduate costs his parents or guardians, I feel
inclined to ask whether the rato-in-aid of the education
of the wealthy and professional classes, thus levied on
the resources of the community, is not, after all, a little
heavy? And, still further, I am tempted to inquire
what has become of the indigent scholars, the sons of
the masses of the people whose daily labour just suffices
to meet their daily wants, for whoso benefit these rich
foundations were largely, if not mainly, instituted ? It
seems as if Pharaoh's dream had been rigorously car-
ried out, and that even the fat scholar has eaten the
lean one. And when I turn from this picture to the
no less real vision of many a bravo and frugal Scotch
boy, spending his summer In hard manual labour, that
he may have the privilege of Trending his way in au-
tumn to this University, with a bag of oatmeal, ten
pounds in his pocket, and his own stout heart to de-
pend upon through the northern winter; not bent 'on
seeking

" Tho Imbblo reputation at the cannon's moutli,"

UMVEBSITIES: ACTUAL AKD IDEAL, 45

but determined to wring knowledge from the hard hands
of penury ; when I see him win through all such out-
ward obstacles to positions of wide usefulness and well-
earned fame ; I cannot but think that, in essence, Aber-
deen has departed but little from the primitive intention
of the founders of Universities, and that the spirit of
reform has so much to do on the other side of the Bor-
der, that it may be long before he has leisure to look
this way.

As compared with other actual Universities, then,
Aberdeen, may, perhaps, be well satisfied with itself*
But do not think me an impracticable dreamer, if I ask
you not to rest and be thankful in this state of satisfac-
tion ; if I ask you to consider awhile, how this actual
good stands related to that ideal better, towards which
both men and institutions must progress, if they would
not retrograde.

In an ideal University, as I conceive it, a man should
be able to obtain instruction in all forms of knowledge,
and discipline in the use of all the methods by which
knowledge is obtained. In such an University, the force
of living example should fire the student with a noble
ambition to emulate the learning of learned men, and
to follow in the footsteps of the explorers of new fields
of Knowledge. And the very air he breathes should be
charged with that enthusiasni for truth, that fanaticism
of veracity, which is a greater possession than much
learning ; a nobler gift than the power of increasing
knowledge ; by so much greater and nobler than theses,

4:6 UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

as tlie moral nature of man is greater than tlie intellec-
tual; for veracity is the heart of morality.

But the man who is all morality and intellect, al-
though he may be good and even great, is, after all, only
half a man. There is beauty in the moral world and in
the intellectual world ; but there is also a beauty which
is neither moral nor intellectual the beauty of the
world of Art. There are men who are devoid of the
power of seeing it, as there are men who are born deaf
and blind, and the loss of those, as of these, is simply
infinite. There are others in whom it is an overpower-
ing passion; happy men, born with the productive, or
at lowest, the appreciative, genius of the Artist. But,
in the mass of mankind, the JEsthetic faculty, like the
reasoning power and the moral sense, needs to be roused,
directed, and cultivated ; and I know not why the devel-
opment of that side of Ills nature, through which man
has access to a perennial spring of ennobling pleasure,
should be omitted from any comprehensive scheme of
University education.

All Universities recognise Literature in the sense of
the old Rhetoric, which is art incarnate in words. Some,
to their credit, recognise Art in its narrower sense, to a
certain extent, and confer degrees for proficiency in
some of its branches. If there are Doctors of Music,
why should there be no Masters of Painting, of Sculpture,
of Architecture ? I should like to BOO Professors of the
Fine Arts in every University ; and instruction in some
branch of their work made a part of the Arts curriculum.

UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AlsTD IDEAL. 4/7

I just now expressed the opinion that, in onr ideal
University, a man should be able to obtain instruction
in all forms of knowledge. Now, by " forms of knowl-
edge " I mean the great classes of things knowable ; of
which the first, in logical, though not in natural, order
is knowledge relating to the scope and limits of the
mental faculties of man ; a form of knowledge which,
in its positive aspect, answers pretty much to Logic
and part of Psychology, while, on its negative and criti-
cal side, it corresponds with Metaphysics.

A second class comprehends all that knowledge
which relates to man's welfare, so far as it is determined
by his own acts, or what we call his conduct. It answers
to Moral and Keligious philosophy. Practically, it is
the most directly valuable of all forms of knowledge,
but speeulatiyely, it is limited and criticised by that
which precedes and by that which follows it in my
order of enumeration.

A third class embraces knowledge of the phenomena
of the Universe, as that which lies about the individual
man : and of the rules which those phenomena are ob-
served to follow in the order of their occurrence, which
we term the laws of Nature.

This is what ought to be called Natural Science, or
Physiology, though those terms are hopelessly diverted
from such a meaning ; and it includes all exact knowl-
edge of natural fact, whether Mathematical, Physical,
Biological, or Social.

Kant has said that the ultimate object of all knowl-

3

48 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

edge is to give replies to these three questions : What
can I do \ "What ought I to do 2 What may I hope
for? The forms of knowledge which I have enumer-
ated, should furnish such replies as are within human
reach, to the first and second of these questions. While
to the third, perhaps the wisest answer is, "Do what you
can to do what you ought, and leave hoping and fear-
ing alone."

If this be a jiist and an exhaustive classification of
the forms of knowledge, no question as to their relative
importance, or as to the superiority of one to the other,
can "be seriously raised.

On the face of the matter, it is absurd to ask whether
it is more important to know the limits of one's powers;
or the ends for which they ought to be exerted ; or the
conditions under which they must bo exerted. One
may as well inquire which of the terms of a llulo of
Three sum one ought to know, in order to got a trust-
worthy result. Practical life is such a sum, in which
your duty multiplied into your capacity, and divided by
your circumstances, gives you the fourth term in the
proportion, which is yonr deserts, with great accuracy.
All agree, I take it, that men ought to have these three
kinds of knowledge. The so-called " conflict of studies "
turns upon the question of how they may bct bo ob-
tained.

The founders of Universities hold tho theory that the
Scriptures and Aristotle taken, together, the latter being
limited by the former, contained all knowledge worth

U1STIYEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 49

having ; and that the business of philosophy was to in-
terpret and co-ordinate these two. I imagine that in
the twelfth century this was a very fair conclusion from
known facts. Nowhere in the world, in those days, was
there such an encyclopaedia of knowledge of all three
classes, as is to be found in those writings. The scho-
lastic philosophy is a wonderful monument of the pa-
tience and ingenuity with which the human mind toiled
to build up a logically consistent theory of the Universe,
out of such materials. And that philosophy is by no
means dead and buried, as many vainly suppose. On
the contrary, numbers of men of no mean learning and
accomplishment, and sometimes of rare power and sub-
tlety of thought, hold by it as the best theory of things
which has yet been stated. And, what is still more re-
markable, men who speak the language of modern phi-
losophy, nevertheless think the thoughts of the school-
men. " The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands
are the hands of Esau." Every day I hear "Cause,"
"Law," "Force," "Vitality," spoken of as entities, by
people who can enjoy Swift's joke about the meat-roast-
ing quality of the smoke-jack, and comfort themselves
with the reflection that they are not even as those be-
nighted schoolmen.

Well, this great system had its day, and then it was
sapped and mined by two influences. The first was the
study of classical literature, which familiarised men with
methods of philosophising ; with conceptions of the
highest Good ; with ideas of the order of Nature ; with

50 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

notions of Literary and Historical Criticism ; and, above
all, with visions of Art, of a kind which not only would
not fit into the scholastic scheme, but showed them a
pre-Christian, and indeed altogether un-Christian world,
of such grandeur and beauty that they ceased to think
of any other. They were as men who had kissed the
Fairy Queen, and wandering with her in the dim love-
liness of the under-world, cared not to return to the
familiar ways of home and fatherland, though they lay,
at arm's length, overhead. Cardinals were more familiar
with Virgil than with Isaiah ; and Popes laboured, with
great success, to re-paganise Rome.

The second influence was the slow, but sure, growth
of the physical sciences. It was discovered that some
results of speculative thought, of immense practical and
theoretical importance, can be verified by observation;
and are always true, however severely they may be
tested. Here, at any rate, was knowledge, to the cer-
tainty of which no authority could add, or take away,
one jot or tittle, and to which the tradition of a thousand
years was as insignificant as the hearsay of yesterday.
To the scholastic system, the study of clasBical litera-
ture might be inconvenient and distracting, but it was
possible to hope that it could be kept within bounds.
Physical science, on the other hand, was an irreconcilable
enemy, to be excluded at all hazards. The College of
Cardinals has not distinguished itself in Physics or Physi-
ology; and no Pope has, as yet, set up public laboratories
in the Vatican.

UNIVEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 51

People do not always formulate the beliefs on which,
they act. The instinct of fear and dislike is quicker
than the reasoning process; and I suspect that, taken
in conjunction with some other causes, such instinctive
aversion is at the bottom of the long exclusion of any
serious discipline in the physical sciences from the gen-
eral curriculum of Universities; while, on the other
hand, classical literature has been gradually made the
backbone of the Arts course.

I am ashamed to repeat here what I have said else-
where, in season and out of season, respecting the value
of Science as knowledge and discipline. But the other
day I met with some passages in the Address to another
Scottish University, of a great thinker, recently lost to
us, which express so fully, and yet so tersely, the truth
in this matter, that I am fain to quote them :

" To question all things ; never to turn away from
any difficulty; to accept no doctrine either from ourselves
or from other people without a rigid scrutiny by negative
criticism ; letting no fallacy, or incoherence, or confusion
of thought step by unperceived ; above all, to insist upon
having the meaning of a word clearly understood before
using it, and the meaning of a proposition before assent-
ing to it ; these are the lessons we learn " from workers
in Science. ""With all this vigorous management of
the negative element, they inspire no scepticism about
the reality of truth or indifference to its pursuit. The
noblest enthusiasm, both for the search after truth and
for applying it to its highest uses, pervades those writ-

52 UNIVERSITIES : 'ACTUAL AM) IDEAL.

ers." "In cultivating, therefore," science as an essen-
tial ingredient in education, "we are all the while lay-
ing an admirable foundation for etldcal and philosophical
culture." *

The passages I have quoted were uttered by John
Stuart Mill ; but you cannot hear inverted commas, and
it is therefore right that I should add, without delay,
that I have taken the liberty of substituting workers
in science" for "ancient dialecticians," and "Science as
an essential ingredient in education" for "the ancient
languages as our best literary education." Mill did, in,
fact, deliver a noble panegyric upon classical studies.
I do not doubt its justice, nor presume to question its
wisdom. But I venture to maintain that no wise or just
judge, who has a knowledge of the facts, will hesitate to
say that it applies with equal force to scientific training.

But it is only fair to the Scottish Universities to
point out that they have long understood the value of
Science as a branch of general education. I observe,
with the greatest satisfaction, that candidates for the
degree of Master of Arts in this University arc required
to have a knowledge, not only of Mental and Moral
Philosophy, and of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy,
but of Natural History, in addition to tho ordinary
Latin and Greek course ; and that a candidate may take
honours in these subjects and in Chemistry.

I do not know what the requirements of your ex-

* Inaugural Address delivered to the University of St. Andrews, Feb-
ruary 1, 186Y, by J, S. Mill, Hector of tho University (pp. 82, 88),

UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AM) IDEAL. 53

aminers may be, but I sincerely trust they are not satis-
fied with a mere book knowledge of these matters. For
niy own part, I would not raise a finger, if I could
thereby introduce mere book work in science into every
Arts curriculum in the country. Let those who want to
study books devote themselves to Literature, in which
we have the perfection of books, both as to substance
and as to form. If I may paraphrase Hobbes's well-
known aphorism, I would say that " books are the money
of Literature, but only the counters of Science," Science
(in the sense in which I now use the term) being the
knowledge of fact, of which every verbal description is
but an incomplete and symbolic expression. And be
assured that no teaching of science is worth anything,
as a mental discipline, which is not based upon direct
perception of the facts, and practical exercise of the
observing and logical faculties upon them. Even in
such a simple matter as the mere comprehension of
form, ask the most practised and widely informed anato-
mist what is the difference between his knowledge of
a structure which he has read about, and his knowledge
of the same structure when he has seen it for himself ;
and he will tell you that the two things are not com-
parable the difference is infinite. Thus I am very
strongly inclined to agree with some learned school-
masters who say that, in their experience, the teaching
of science is all waste time. As they teach it, I have
no doubt it is. But to teach it otherwise, requires an
amount of personal labour and a development of means

54 OTTIYEESITIES: ACTUAL AM) IDEAL.

and appliances, which must strike horror and dismay
into a man accustomed to mere book work; and who
has been in the habit of teaching a class of fifty without
much strain upon his energies. And this is one of the
real difficulties in the way of the introduction of phys-
ical science into the ordinary University , course, to
which I have alluded. It is a difficulty which will not
be overcome, until years of patient study have organised
scientific teaching as well as, or I hope better than,
classical teachrng has been organised hitherto.

A little while ago, 1 ventured to hint a doubt as to
the perfection of some of the arrangements in the ancient
Universities of England; but, in their provision for
giving instruction in Science as such, and without direct
reference to any of its practical applications, they have
set a brilliant example. Within the last twenty years,
Oxford alone has sunk more than a hundred and twenty
thousand pounds in building and furnishing Physical,
Chemical, and Physiological Laboratories, and a mag-
nificent Museum, arranged with an almost luxurious re-
gard for the needs of the student. Cambridge, less
rich, but aided by the munificence " of her Chancellor,
is taking the same course ; and, in a few years, it will
be for no lack of the means and appliances of sound
teaching, if the mass of English University men remain
in their present state of barbarous ignorance of even tlio
rudiments of scientific culture.

Tet another step needs to be made before Science
can be said to have taken its proper place in the Uxii-

UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 55

versities. That is its recognition as a Faculty, or branch
of study demanding recognition and special organisation,
on account of its bearing on the wants of mankind.
The Faculties of Theology, Law, and Medicine, are
technical schools, intended to equip men who have re-
ceived general culture, with the special knowledge which
is needed for the proper performance of the duties of
clergymen, lawyers, and medical practitioners.

"When the material well-being of the country de-
pended upon rude pasture and agriculture, and still
ruder mining ; in the days when all the innumerable
applications of the principles of physical science to prac-
tical purposes were non-existent even as dreams ; days
which men living may have heard their fathers speak
of; what little physical science could be seen to bear
directly upon human life, lay within the province of
Medicine. Medicine was the foster-mother of Chem-
istry, because it has to do with the preparation of drugs
and the detection of poisons ; of Botany, because it en-
abled the physician to recognise medicinal herbs; of
Comparative Anatomy and Physiology, because the man
who studied Human Anatomy and Physiology for purely
medical purposes was led to extend his studies to the rest
of the animal world.

"Within my recollection, the only way in which a
student could obtain anything like a training in Phys-
ical Science, was by attending the lectures of the Pro-
fessors of Physical and Natural Science attached to the
Medical Schools. But, in the course of the last thirty

56 UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

years, both foster-mother and child have grown so big,
that they threaten not only to crush one another, but
to pre& the very life out of the unhappy student who
enters the nursery ; to the great detriment of all three.

I speak in the presence of those who know practically
what medical education is ; for I may assume that a
large proportion of my hearers are more or less advanced
students of medicine. I appeal to the most industrious
and conscientious among you, to those who are most
deeply penetrated with a sense of the extremely serious
responsibilities which attach to the calling of a medical
practitioner, when I ask whether, out of the four years
which you devote to your studies, you ought to spare
even so much as an hour for any work which docs not
tend directly to fit you for your duties?

Consider what that work is. Its foundation is a
sound and practical acquaintance with the structure of
the human organism, and with -the modes and conditions
of its action in health. I say a sound and practical ac-
quaintance, to guard against the supposition that my in-
tention is to suggest that you ought all to bo minute
anatomists and accomplished physiologists. The devo-
tion of your whole four years to Anatomy and Physi-
ology alone, would be totally insufficient to attain that
end. What I mean is, the sort of practical, familiar,
finger-end knowledge which a watchmaker has of a
watch, and which you expect that craftsman, as an
honest man, to have, when you entrust a watch that
goes badly, to him. It is a kind of knowledge which

UNIVERSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 57

is to be acquired,, not in the lecture-room, nor in the
library, but in the dissecting-room and the laboratory.
It is to be had, not by sharing your attention between
these and sundry other subjects, but by concentrating
your minds, week after week, and month after month,
six or seven hours a day, upon all the complexities of
organ and function, until each of the greater truths
of anatomy and physiology has become an organic part
of your minds until you would know them if you
were roused and questioned in the middle of the night,
as a man knows the geography of his native place and
the daily life of his home. That is the sort of knowl-
edge which, once obtained, is a life-long possession.
Other occupations may fill your minds it may grow
dim, and seem to be forgotten but there it is, like the
inscription on a battered and defaced coin, which comes
out when you warm it.

If I had the power to remodel Medical Education,
the first two years of the medical curriculum should be
devoted to nothing but such thorough study of Anatomy
and Physiology, with Physiological Chemistry and Phys-
ics ; the student should then pass a real, practical exam-
ination in these subjects ; and, having gone through that
ordeal satisfactorily, he should be troubled no more with
them. His whole mind should then be given with equal
intentness, to Therapeutics, in its broadest sense, to
Practical Medicine and to Surgery, with instruction in
Hygiene and in Medical Jurisprudence; and of these
subjects only surely there are enough of them should

58 UNIYEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

lie be required to show a knowledge in his final exam-
ination.

I cannot claim any special property in this theory
of what the medical curriculum should "be, for I find that
views, more or less closely approximating these, are held
by all who have seriously considered the very grave and
pressing question of Medical Reform ; and have, indeed,
been carried into practice, to some extent, by the most
enlightened Examining Boards. I have heard but two
kinds of objections to them. There is, first, the objec-
tion of vested interests, which I will not deal with here,
because I want to make myself as pleasant as I can, and
no discussions are so unpleasant as those which turn on
such points. And there is, secondly, the much more
respectable objection, which takes the general form of
the reproach that, in thus limiting the curriculum, we
are seeking to narrow it. We are told that the medical
man ought to be a person of good education and general
information, if his profession is to hold its own among
otter professions; that he ought to know Botany, or
else, if he goes abroad, he will not be able to tell poison-
ous fruits from edible ones ; that he ought to know
drags, as a druggist knows them, or he will not bo able
to tell sham bark and senna from the real articles ; that
he ought to know Zoology, because well, I really liavo
never been able to learn exactly why he is to be expected
to know zoology. There is, indeed, a popular supersti-
tion, that doctors know all about things that arc queer
or nasty to the general mind, and may, therefore, bo

UMYERSITIES: ACTUAL AKD IDEAL. 59

reasonably expected to know the "barbarous binomials"
applicable to snakes, snails, and slugs ; an. amount of
information -with. which tlie general mind is usually com-
pletely satisfied. And there is a scientific superstition
that Physiology is largely aided by Comparative Anato-
m y a superstition which, like most superstitions, once
had a grain of truth at bottom; but the grain has be-
come homoeopathic, since Physiology took its modern
experimental development, and became what it is now,
the application of the principles of Physics and Chemis-
try to the elucidation of the phenomena of life.

I hold as strongly as any one can do, that the medical
practitioner ought to be a person of education and good
general culture ; but I also hold by the old theory of a
Faculty, that a man should have his general culture
before he devotes himself to the special studies of that
Faculty ; and I venture to maintain, that, if the general
culture obtained in the Faculty of Arts were what it
ought to be, the student would have quite as much
knowledge of the fundamental principles of Physics, of
Chemistry, and of Biology, as he needs, before he com-
menced his special medical studies.

Moreover, I would urge, that a thorough study of
Human Physiology is, in itself, an education broader
and more comprehensive than much that passes under
that name. There is no side of the intellect which it
does not call into play, no region of human knowledge
into which either its roots; or its branches, do not extend ;
like the Atlantic between the Old and the New Worlds,

60 UNTVEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

its waves wash the shores of the two worlds of matter
and of mind; its tributary streams flow from "both;
through its waters, as yet unfurrowed by the keel of any
Columbus, lies the road, if such there be, from the one
to the other ; far away from that North-west Passage of
mere speculation, in which so many brave souls have
been hopelessly frozen up.

But whether I am right or wrong about all this, the
patent fact of the limitation of time remains. As the
song runs :

" If a man could be sure

That Ms life would endure
For the space of a thousand long years "

he might do a number of things not practicable under
present conditions. Methuselah might, with much pro-
priety, have taken half a century to get his doctor's
degree; and might, very fairly, have been required to
pass a practical examination upon the contents of the
British Museum, before commencing practice as a prom-
ising young fellow of two hundred, or thereabouts. But
you have four years to do your work in, and are turned
loose, to save or slay, at two or three and twenty.

Now, I put it to you, whether you think that, when
you come down to the realities of life when you stand
by the sick-bed, racking your brains for the principles
which shall furnish you with the means of interpreting
symptoms, and forming a rational theory of the condi-
tion of your patient, it will be satisfactory for you to
find that those principles are not there although, to use

UOTYEESITIES : ACTUAL ASTD IDEAL. 61

the examination slang which is unf ortunately too famil-
iar to me, yon can quite easily " give an account of the
leading peculiarities of the Mwrswpialia" or " enumerate
the chief characters of the Composite" or " state the
class and order of the animal from which Oastoreum is
obtained. 5 '

I really do not think that state of things will be sat-
isfactory to you; I am very sure it will not be so to
your patient. Indeed, I am so narrow-minded myself,
that if I had to choose between two physicians one
who did not know whether a whale is a fish or not,
and could not tell gentian from ginger, but did under-
stand the applications of the. institutes of medicine to
his art ; while the other, like Talleyrand's doctor, " knew
everything, even a little physic " with all my love for
breadth of culture, I should assuredly consult the former.

It is not pleasant to incur the suspicion of an incli-
nation to injure or depreciate particular branches of
knowledge. But the fact that one of those which I
should have no hesitation in excluding from the medi-
cal curriculum, is that to which my own life has been
specially devoted, should, at any rate, defend me from
the suspicion of being urged to this course by any but
the very gravest considerations of the public welfare.

And I should like, further, to call your attention to
the important circumstance that, in thus proposing the
exclusion of the study of such branches of knowledge
as Zoology and Botany, from those compulsory upon the
medical student, I am not, for a moment, suggesting

62 UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

their exclusion from the University. I think that
sonnd and practical instruction in the elementary facts
and broad principles of Biology should form part of the
Arts Curriculum : and here, happily, my theory is in.
entire accordance with your practice. Moreover, as I
have already said, I have no sort of doubt that, in view
of the relation of Physical Science to the practical life
of the present day, it has the same right as Theology,
Law, and Medicine, to a Faculty of its own in which
men shall be trained to be professional men of science.
It may be doubted whether Universities are the places
for technical schools of Engineering, or Applied Chem-
istry, or Agriculture. But there can surely be little
question, that instruction in the branches of Science
which lie at the foundation of these Arts, of a far more
advanced and special character than could, with any
propriety, be included in the ordinary Arts Curriculum,
ought to be obtainable by means of a duly organised
Faculty of Science in every University.

The establishment of such a Faculty would liave the
additional advantage of providing, in some measure, for
one of the greatest wants of our time and country. 1
mean the proper support and encouragement of origi-
nal research.

The other day, an emphatic friend of mine commit-
ted himself to the opinion that, in England, it Is better
for a man's worldly prospects to be a drunkard, than to
be smitten with the divine dipsomania of the original
investigator. I am inclined to think lie was not far

UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 63

wrong. And, be it observed, that tlie question is not,
whether such, a man shall be able to make as much out
of his abilities as his brother, of like ability, who goes
into Law, or Engineering, or Commerce; it is not a
question of u maintaining a due number of saddle horses, 33
as George Eliot somewhere puts it it is a question of
living or starving.

If a student of my own subject shows power and
originality, I dare not advise him to adopt a scientific
career; for, supposing he is able to maintain himself
until he has attained distinction, I cannot give him the
assurance that any amount of proficiency in the Bio-
logical Sciences will be convertible into, even the most
modest, bread and cheese. And I believe that the case
is as bad, or perhaps worse, with other branches of
Science. In this respect Britain, whose immense wealth
and prosperity hang upon the thread of Applied Science,
is far behind France, and infinitely behind Germany.

And the worst of it is, that it is very difficult to
see one's way to any immediate remedy for this state
of affairs which shall be free from a tendency to become
worse than the disease.

Great schemes for the Endowment of Research have
been proposed. It has been suggested, that Laboratories
for all branches of Physical Science, provided with
every apparatus needed by the investigator, shall be es-
tablished by the State : and shall be accessible, under
due conditions and regulations, to all properly qualified
persons. I see no objection to the principle of such

64 UNIYEKSITIES : ACTUAL AOT IDEAL.

a proposal. If it be legitimate to spend great sums of
money on public Libraries and public collections of
Painting and Sculpture, in aid of the man of letters, or
the Artist, or for the mere sake of affording pleasure
to the general public, I apprehend that it cannot be
illegitimate to do as much for the promotion of scien-
tific investigation. To take the lowest ground as a
mere investment of money, the latter is likely to be
much more immediately profitable. To my mind, the
difficulty in the way of such schemes is not theoretical,
but practical. Given the laboratories, how are the in-
vestigators to be maintained? What career is open to
those who have been thus encouraged to leave bread-
winning pursuits ? If they are to be provided for by en-
dowment, we come back to the College Fellowship sys-
tem, the results of which, for Literature, have not been
so brilliant that one would wish to see it extended to
Science ; unless some much better securities, than at pres-
ent exist, can be taken that it will foster real work. You
know that among the Bees, it depends on tlie kind of
cell in which the egg is deposited, and the quantity
and quality of food which is supplied to the grub,
whether it shall turn out a busy little worker or a big
idle queen. And, in the human hive, the cells of the
endowed larvae are always tending to enlarge, and their
food to improve, until we get queens, beautiful to be-
hold, but which gather no honey and build no comb.

I do not say that these difficulties may not be over-
come, but their gravity is not to be lightly estimated.

UOTYERSITIES: ACTUAL AD IDEAL. 65

In the meanwhile, there is one step in the direction
of the endowment of research which is free from such
objections. It is possible to place the scientific inquirer
in a position in which he shall have ample leisure and
opportunity for original work, and yet shall give a fair
and tangible equivalent for those privileges. The estab-
lishment of a Faculty of Science in every University,
implies that of a corresponding number of Professorial
chairs, the incumbents of which need not be so burdened
with teaching as to deprive them of ample leisure for
original work. I do not think that it is any impedi-
ment to an original investigator to have to devote a
moderate portion of his time to lecturing, or superin-
tending practical instruction. On the contrary, I think
it may be, and often is, a benefit to be obliged to take
a comprehensive survey of your subject; or to bring
your results to a point, and give them, as it were, a
tangible objective existence. The besetting sins of the
investigator are two : the one is the desire to put aside
a subject, the general bearings of which he has mastered
himself, and pass on to something which has the at-
traction of novelty; and the other, the desire for too
much perfection, which leads him to

" Add and alter many times,
Till all be ripe and rotten ; "

to spend the energies which should be reserved for ac-
tion, in whitening the decks and polishing the guns.
The obligation to produce results for the instruction

66 TJOTYEKSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL,

of others, seems to me to be a more effectual clieck on
these tendencies, than even the love of usefulness or the
ambition for fame.

But supposing the Professorial forces of our Univer-
sity to be duly organised, there remains an important
question, relating to the teaching power, to be considered.
Is the Professorial system the system, I mean, of teach-
ing in the lecture-room alone, and leaving the student
to find his own way when he is outside the lecture-
room adequte to the wants of learners ? In answering
this question, I confine myself to my own province, and
I venture to reply for Physical Science, assuredly and
undoubtedly, No. As I have already intimated, prac-
tical work in the Laboratory is absolutely indispensable,
and that practical work must be guided and 'superin-
tended by a sufficient staff of Demonstrators, who are
for Science what Tutors are for other branches of study.
And there must be a good supply of sucli Demonstra-
tors. I doubt if the practical work of more than twen-
ty students can be properly superintended by one Dem-
onstrator. If we take the working day at six hours,
that is less than twenty minutes apiece not a very
large allowance of time for helping a dull man, for
correcting an inaccurate one, or even, for making an
intelligent student clearly apprehend what ho is about.
And, no doubt, the supplying of a proper amount of
this tutorial, practical teaching, is a difficulty in the way
of giving proper instruction in Physical Science in such
Universities as that of Aberdeen, which are devoid of

UNIVERSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 67

endowments ; and, unlike the English. Universities, have
no moral claim on the funds of richly endowed bodies
to supply their wants.

Examination thorough, searching examination is an
indispensable accompaniment of teaching ; but I am al-
most inclined to commit myself to the very heterodox
proposition that it is a necessary evil. I am a very old
Examiner ? having, for some twenty years past, been oc-
cupied with examinations on a considerable scale, of all
sorts and conditions of men, and women too, from the
boys and girls of elementary schools to the candidates
for Honours and Fellowships in the Universities. I will
not say that, in this case as in so many others, the ad-
age, that familiarity breeds contempt, holds good ; but
my admiration for the existing system of examination
and its products, does not wax warmer as I see more of
it. Examination, like fire, is a good servant, but a bad
master; and there seems to me to be some danger of
its becoming our master. I by no means stand alone in
this opinion. Experienced friends of mine do not hesi-
tate to say that students whose career they watch, ap-
pear to them to become deteriorated by the constant
effort to pass this or that examination, just as we hear
of men's brains becoming affected by the daily necessity
of catching a train. They work to pass, not to know ;
and outraged Science takes her revenge. They do pass,
and they don't know. I have passed sundry examina-
tions in my time, not without credit, and I confess I
am ashamed to think how very little real knowledge

68 TJNIVEESITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

underlay the torrent of stuff which I was able to pour
out on paper. In fact, that which examination, as or-
dinarily conducted, tests, is simply a man's power of
work under stimulus, and his capacity for rapidly and
clearly producing that which, for the time, he has got
into his mind. ]STow, these faculties are by no means
to be despised. They are of great value in practical
life, and are the making of many an advocate, and of
many a so-called statesman. But in the pursuit of truth,
scientific or other, they count for very little, unless they
are supplemented by that long-continued, patient "in-
tending of the rnind," as Newton phrased it, which
makes very little show in Examinations. I imagine
that an Examiner who knows his students personally,
must not unfrequently have found himself in the posi-
tion of finding A J s paper better than B's, though his
own judgment tells him, quite clearly, that B is the man
who has the larger share of genuine capacity.

Again, there is a fallacy about Examiners. It is
commonly supposed that any one who knows a subject
is competent to teach it ; and no one seems to doubt
that any one who knows a subject is competent to ex-
amine in it. I believe both these opinions to be seri-
ous mistakes : the latter, perhaps, the more serious of
the two. In the first place, I do not believe that any
one who is not, or has not been, a teacher is really
qualified to examine advanced students. And in the
second place, Examination is an Art, and a difficult one,
which has to be learned like all other arts.

UOTYEKSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 69

Beginners always set too difficult questions partly
because they are afraid of being suspected of igno-
rance if they set easy ones, and partly from not under-
standing their business. Suppose that you want to
test the relative physical strength of a score of young
men. You do not put a hundredweight down before
them, and tell each to swing it round. If you do,
half of them won't be able to lift it at all, and only
one or two will be able to perform the task. You
must give them half a hundredweight, and see how
they manoeuvre that, if you want to form any esti-
mate of the muscular strength of each. So, a prac-
tised Examiner will seek for information respecting the
mental vigour and training of candidates from the way
in which they deal with questions easy enough to let
reason, memory, and method have free play.

No doubt, a great deal is to be done by the care-
ful selection of Examiners, and by the copious intro-
duction of practical work, to remove the evils insepa-
rable from examination ; but, under the best of circum-
stances, I believe that examination will remain but an
imperfect test of knowledge, and a still more imperfect
test of capacity, while it tells next to nothing about a
man's power as an investigator.

There is much to be said in favour of restricting
the highest degrees in each Faculty, to those who have
shown evidence of such original power, by prosecuting
a research under the eye of the Professor in whose
province it lies ; or, at any rate, under conditions which

70 UNIYEKSITIES : ACTUAL AHD IDEAL.

stall afford satisfactory proof that the work is theirs.
The notion may sotpid revolutionary, but it is really
very old; for, I take it, that it lies at the bottom of
that presentation of a thesis by the candidate for a doc-
torate, which has now, too often, become little better
than a matter of form.

Thus far, I have endeavoured to lay before you, in
a too brief and imperfect manner, my views respecting
the teaching half the Magistri and Regentes of the
University of the Future. !Now let me turn to the
learning half the Scholares.

If the Universities are to be the sanctuaries of the
highest culture of the country, those who would enter
that sanctuary, must not come with unwashed hands.
If the good seed is to yield its hundredfold harvest, it
must not be scattered amidst the stones of ignorance,
or the tares of undisciplined indolence and wantonness.
On the contrary, the soil must have been carefully pre-
pared, and the Professor should find that the opera-
tions of clod-crushing, draining, and weeding, and even
a good deal of planting, have been done by the School-
master.

That is exactly what the Professor does not find in
any University in the three Kingdoms that I can hear
of the reason of which state of things lies in the
extremely faulty organisation of the majority of sec-
ondary Schools. Students come to the Universities ill-
prepared in classics and mathematics, not at all pre*

UOTVEKSITIES : ACTUAL AND IDEAL. 71

pared in anything else ; and half their time is spent in
learning that which they ought to have known when
they came.

I sometimes hear it said that the Scottish Universi-
ties differ from the English, in being to a much greater
extent places of comparatively elementary education for
a younger class of students. But it would seem doubt-
ful if any great difference of this kind really exists;
for a high authority, himself Head of an English Col-
lege, has solemnly affirmed that : " Elementary teaching
of youths under twenty is now the only function per-
formed by the University;" and that Colleges are
" boarding schools in which the elements of the learned
languages are taught to youth." *

This is not the first time that I have quoted those
remarkable assertions. I should like to engrave them
in public view, for they have not been refuted; and
I am convinced that if their import is once clearly
apprehended, they will play no mean part when the
question of University reorganisation, with a view to
practical measures, comes on for discussion. You are
not responsible for this anomalous state of affairs now ;
but, as you pass into active life and acquire the polit-
ical influence to which your education and your posi-
tion should entitle you, you will become responsible for
it, unless each in his sphere does his best to alter it,
by insisting on the improvement of secondary Schools.

* " Suggestions for Academical Organisation, with Especial Reference
to Oxford." By the Hector of Lincoln.
4

72 UOTVEBSITIES: ACTUAL AND IDEAL.

Tour present responsibility is of another, though
not less serious, kind. Institutions do not make men,
any more than organisation makes life; and even the
ideal University we have been dreaming about will be
but a superior piece of mechanism, unless each student
strive after the ideal of the Scholar. And that, ideal,
it seems to me, has never been better embodied than
by the great Poet, who, though lapped in luxury, the
favourite of a Court, and the idol of his countrymen,
remained through all the length of his honoured years
a Scholar in Art, in Science, and in. Life.

" "Would' st shape a noble life ? Then cast
No backward glances towards the past :
And though somewhat be lost and gone,
Yet do thou act as one new-born.
"What each day needs, that shalt thou ask ;
Each day will set its proper task.
Give other's work just share of praise;
Not of thine own the merits raise.
Beware no fellow man thou hate :
And so in G-od's hands leave thy fate." *

* Goethe, Zahme JCewen, Vierte AUTwlwig. I should be glad to take
credit for the close and vigorous English version; but it is my wife's, and
not mine.

III.

TECHNICAL EDUCATION".

ANY candid observer of the phenomena of modern
society will readily admit that bores must be classed
among the enemies of the human race; and a little
consideration will probably lead him to the further ad-
mission, that no species of that extensive genus of nox-
ious creatures is more objectionable than the educational
bore. Convinced as I am of the truth of this great
social generalisation, it is not without a certain trepi-
dation that I venture to address you on an educational
topic. For, in the course of the last ten years, to go
back no farther, I am afraid to say how often I have
ventured to speak of education, from that given in the
primary schools to that which is to be had in the uni-
versities and medical colleges ; indeed, the only part of
this wide region into which, as yet, I have not advent-
ured is that into which I propose to intrude to-day.

Thus, I cannot but be aware that I am dangerously
near becoming the thing which all men fear and fly.
But I have deliberately elected to nua the risk. For
when you did me the honour to ask me to address
you, an unexpected circumstance had led me to occupy

74: TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

myself seriously with the question of technical educa-
tion; and I had acquired the conviction that there are
few subjects respecting which it is more important for
all classes of the community to have clear and just
ideas than this; while, certainly, there is none which
is more deserving of attention by the Working Men's
Club and Institute Union.

It is not for me to express an opinion whether the
considerations, which I am about to submit to you, will
be proved by experience to be just or not ; but I will
do my best to make them clear. Among the many
good things to be found in Lord Bacon's works, none
is more full of wisdom than the saying that "truth
more easily comes out of error than out of confusion."
Clear and consecutive wrong-thinking is the next best
thing to right-thinking; so that, if I succeed in clear-
ing your ideas on this topic, I shall have wasted neither
your time nor my own.

"Technical education," in the sense in which the
term is ordinarily used, and in which I am now em-
ploying it, means that sort of education " which is spe-
cially adapted to the needs of men whose business in
life it is to pursue some kind of handicraft; it is, in
fact, a fine Greco-Latin equivalent for what in good
vernacular English would be called "the teaching of
handicrafts." And probably, at this stage of our prog-
ress, it may occur to many of you to think of the
story of the cobbler and his last, and to say to your-
selves, though you will be too polite to put the question

TECHNICAL EDUCATION 75

openly to me. What does the speaker know practically
about this matter? What is his handicraft? I think
the question is a very proper one, and unless I were
prepared to answer it, I hope satisfactorily, I should
have chosen some other theme.

The fact is, I am, and have been, any time these
thirty years, a man who works with his hands a handi-
craftsman. I do not say this in the broadly metaphor-
ical sense in which fine gentlemen, with all the delicacy
of Agag about them, trip to the hustings about elec-
tion time, and protest that they too are working men.
I really mean my words to be taken in their direct,
literal, and straightforward sense. In fact, if the most
nimble-fingered watchmaker among you will come to
my workshop, he may set me to put a watch together,
and I will set him to dissect, say, a blackbeetle's nerves.
I do not wish to vaunt, but I am inclined to think that
I shall manage my job to his satisfaction sooner than
he will do his piece of work to mine.

In truth, anatomy, which is my handicraft, is one
of the most difficult kinds of mechanical labour, in-
volving, as it does, not only lightness and dexterity of
hand, but sharp eyes, and endless patience. And you
must not suppose that my particular branch of science
is especially distinguished for the demand it makes upon
skill in manipulation. A similar requirement is made
upon all students of physical science. The astronomer,
the electrician, the chemist, the mineralogist, the bot-
anist, are constantly called upon to perform manual

76 TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

operations of exceeding delicacy. The progress of all
branches of physical science depends upon observation,
or on that artificial observation which is termed experi-
ment, of one kind or another; and, the farther we ad-
vance, the more practical difficulties surround the inves-
tigation of the conditions of the problems offered to
us; so that mobile and yet steady hands, guided by
clear vision, are more and more in request in the work-
shops of science.

Indeed, it has struck me that one of the grounds
of that sympathy between the handicraftsmen of this
country and the men of science, by which, it has so
often been my good fortune, to profit, may, perhaps,
lie here. You feel and we feel that, among the so-
called learned folks, we alone are brought into contact
with tangible facts in the way that you are. You know
well enough that it is one thing to write a history of
chairs in general, or to address a poem to a throne, or
to speculate about the occult powers of the chair of
St. Peter ; and quite another thing to make with, your
own hands a veritable chair, that will stand fair and
square, and afford a safe and satisfactory resting-place
to a frame of sensitiveness and solidity.

So it is with us, when we look out from our scien-
tific handicrafts upon the doings of our learned brethren,
whose work is untrammelled by anything "base and
mechanical," as handicrafts used to be called when the
world was younger, and, in some respects, less wise than
now. "We take the greatest interest in their pursuits;

TECHNICAL EDUCATION ff

we are edified "by their histories and are charmed with
their poems, which, sometimes illustrate so remarkably
the powers of man's imagination ; some of us admire
and eyen humbly try to follow them in their high philo-
sophical excursions, though we know the risk of being
snubbed by the inquiry whether grovelling dissectors
of monkeys and blackbeetles can hope to enter into the
empyreal kingdom of speculation. But still we feel that
our business is different ; humbler if you will, though the
diminution of dignity is, perhaps, compensated by the
increase of reality ; and that we, like you, hare to get
our work done in a region where little avails, if the
power of dealing with practical tangible facts is want-
ing. Tou know that clever talk touching joinery will
not make a chair; and I know that it is of about as
much value in the physical sciences. Mother [Nature is
serenely obdurate to honeyed words; only those who
understand the ways of things, and can silently and
effectually handle them, get any good out of her.

And now, having, as I hope, justified my assumption
of a place among handicraftsmen, and put myself right
with you as to my qualification, from practical knowl-
edge, to speak about technical education, I will proceed
to lay before you the results of my experience as a
teacher of a handicraft, and tell you what sort of edu-
cation I should think best adapted for a boy whom one
wanted to make a professional anatomist.

I should say, in the first place, let him have a good

78 TEOHOTOAL EDUCATION.

English elementary education, I do not mean that lie
shall be able to pass in such and such a standard that
may or may not be an equivalent expression but that
his teaching shall have been such as to have given him
command of the common implements of learning and to
have created a desire for the things of the understanding.

Further, I should like him to know the elements of
physical science, and especially of physics and chemistry,
and I should take care that this elementary knowledge
was real. I should like my aspirant to be able to read a
scientific treatise in Latin, French, or German, because
an enormous amount of anatomical knowledge is locked
up in those languages. And especially, I should require
some ability to draw I do not mean artistically, for
that is a gift which may be cultivated but cannot be
learned, but with fair accuracy. I will not say that
everybody can learn even this ; for the negative devel-
opment of the faculty of drawing in some people is
almost miraculous. Still everybody, or almost every-
body, can learn to write; and, as writing is a kind of
drawing, I suppose that the majority of the people who
say they cannot draw, and give copious evidence of the
accuracy of their assertion, could draw, after a fashion,
if they tried. And that "after a fashion" would be
better than nothing for my purposes.

Above all things, let my imaginary pupil have pre-
served the freshness and vigour of youth in his mind as
well as his body. The educational abomination of deso-
lation of the present day is the stimulation of young

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 79

people to work at liigli pressure by incessant competitive
examinations. Some wise man (who probably was not
an early riser) has said of early risers in general, that
they are conceited all the forenoon and stupid all the
afternoon. Now whether this is true of early risers in
the common acceptation of the word or not, I will not
pretend to say ; but it is too often true of the unhappy
children who are forced to rise too early in their classes.
They are conceited all the forenoon of life, and stupid
all its afternoon. The yigour and freshness, which
should have been stored up for the purposes of the hard
struggle for existence in practical life, have been washed
out of them by precocious mental debauchery by book
gluttony and lesson bibbing. Their faculties are worn
out by the strain put upon their callow brains, and they
are demoralised by worthless childish triumphs before
the real work of life begins. I have no compassion for
sloth, but youth has more need for intellectual rest than
age ; and the cheerfulness, the tenacity of purpose, the
power of work which make many a successful man what
he is, must often be placed to the credit, not of his hours
of industry, but to that of his hours of idleness, in boy-
hood. Even the hardest worker of us all, if he has to
deal with anything above mere details, will do well, now
and again, to let his brain lie fallow for a space. The
next crop of thought will certainly be all the fuller in
the ear and the weeds fewer.

This is the sort of education which I should like any
one who was going to devote himself to my handicraft

30 TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

to undergo. As to knowing anything about anatomy
itself, on the whole I would rather he left that alone
until he took it tip seriously in my laboratory. It is
hard work enough to teach, and I should not like to
have superadded to that the possible need of unteach-

ing.

"Well, but, you will say, this is Hamlet with the
Prince of Denmark left out; your "technical educa-
tion" is simply a good education, with more attention to
physical science, to drawing, and to modern languages,
than is common, and there is nothing specially technical
about it.

Exactly so; that remark takes us straight to the
heart of what I have to say ; which is, that, in my judg-
ment, the preparatory education of the handicraftsman
ought to have nothing of what is ordinarily understood
by "technical" about it.

The workshop is the only real school for a handicraft.
The education which precedes that of the workshop
should be entirely devoted to the strengthening of the
body, the elevation of the moral faculties, and the culti-
vation of the intelligence ; and, especially, to the im-
buing the mind with a broad and clear view of the laws
of that natural world with the components of which the
handicraftsman will have to deal. And, the earlier the
period of life at which the handicraftsman has to enter
into actual practice of his craft, the more important is it
that he should devote the precious hours of preliminary
education to things of the mind, which have no direct

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 81

and immediate bearing on Ms branch of industry, tliotigli
they lie at tlie foundation of all realities.

Now let me apply the lessons I have learned from
my handicraft to yours. If any of you were obliged
to take an apprentice, I suppose you would like to get a
good healthy lad, ready and willing to learn, handy, and
with his fingers not all thumbs, as the saying goes. You
would like that he should read, write, and cipher well ;
and, if you were an intelligent master, and your trade in-
volved the application of scientific principles, as so many
trades do, you would like him to know enough of the
elementary principles of science to understand what was
going on. I suppose that, in nine trades out of ten, it
would be useful if he could draw; and many of you
must haye lamented your inability to find out for your-
selves what foreigners are doing or have done. So that
some knowledge of French and German might, in many
cases, be very desirable.

So it appears to me that what you want is pretty
much what I want ; and the practical question is, How
you are to get what you need, under the actual limita-
tions and conditions of life of handicraftsmen in this
country?

I think I shall have the assent both of the employ-
ers of labour and of the employed as to one of these
limitations; which is, that no scheme of technical edu-
cation is likely to be seriously entertained which will
delay the entrance of boys into working life, or prevent

82 TECHNICAL EDUCATION".

tliem from contributing towards their own support, as
early as they do at present. Not only do I believe tliat
any such scheme could not be carried out, but I doubt
its desirableness, even if it were practicable.

The period between childhood and manhood is full
of difficulties and dangers, under the most favourable cir-
cumstances ; and, even among the well-to-do, who can
afford to surround their children with the most favour-
able conditions, examples of a career ruined, before it
has well begun, are but too frequent. Moreover, those
who have to live by labour must be shaped to labour
early. The colt that is left at grass too long makes but a
sorry draught-horse, though his way of life does not bring
him within the reach of artificial temptations. Perhaps
the most valuable result of all education is the ability
to make yourself do the thing you have to do 3 when
it ought to be done, whether you like it or not ; it is
the first lesson that ought to be learned ; and, however
early a man's training begins, it is probably the last
lesson that he learns thoroughly.

There is another reason, to which I have already ad-
verted, and which I would reiterate, why any extension
of the time devoted to ordinary school-work is unde-
sirable. In the newly awakened zeal for education, we
run some risk of forgetting the truth, that while under-
instruction is a bad thing, over-instruction, may possibly
be a worse.

Success in any kind of practical life is not depend-
ent solely, or indeed chiefly, upon knowledge. Even

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 83

in the learned professions, knowledge, alone, is of less
consequence than people are apt to suppose. And, if
nmch expenditure of bodily energy is involved in the
day's work, mere knowledge is of still less importance
when weighed against the probable cost of its acquire-
ment. To do a fair day's work with his hands, a man
needs, above all things, health, strength, and the patience
and cheerfulness which, if they do not always accompany
these blessings, can hardly in the nature of things exist
without them; to which we must add honesty of pur-
pose and a pride in doing what is done well.

A good handicraftsman can get on very well with-
out genius, but he will fare badly without a reasonable
share of that which is a more useful possession for work-
aday life, namely, mother-wit; and he will be all the
better for a real knowledge, however limited, of the
ordinary laws of nature, and especially of those which
apply to his own business.

Instruction carried so far as to help the scholar to
turn his store of mother-wit to account, to acquire a fair
amount of sound elementary knowledge, and to use his
hands and eyes ; while leaving him fresh, vigorous, and
with a sense of the dignity of his own calling, whatever
it may be, if fairly and honestly pursued, cannot fail to
be of invaluable service to all those who come under its
influence.

But, on the other hand, if school instruction is carried
so far as to encourage bookishness; if the ambition of
the scholar is directed, not to the gaining of knowledge,

84 TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

but to the being able to pass examinations successfully ;
especially if encouragement is given to the mischievous
delusion that brainwork is, in itself, and apart from its
quality, a nobler or more respectable thing than handi-
work such education may be a deadly mischief to the
workman, and lead to the rapid ruin of the industries
it is intended to serve.

I know that I am expressing the opinion of some
of the largest as well as the most enlightened employ-
ers of labour, when I say that there is a real danger
that, from the extreme of no education, we may run
to the other extreme of over-education of handicrafts-
men. And I apprehend that what is true for the ordi-
nary hand- worker is true for the foreman. Activity,
probity, knowledge of men, ready mother-wit, supple-
mented by a good knowledge of the general principles
involved in his business, are the making of a good
foreman. If he possess these qualities, no amount of
learning will fit him better for his position; while
the course of life and the habit of mind required for
the attainment of such learning may, in various direct
and indirect ways, act as direct disqualifications for it.

Keeping in mind, then, that the two things to be
avoided are, the delay of the entrance of boys into
practical life, and the substitution of exhausted book-
worms for shrewd, handy men, in our works and fac-
tories, let us consider what may be wisely and safely
attempted in the way of improving the education of
lie handicraftsman.

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 85

First, I look to the elementary schools now happily
established all over the country. I am not going to
criticise or find fault with them ; on the contrary, their
establishment seems to me to be the most important
and the most beneficial result of the corporate action
of the people in our day. A great deal is said of
British interests just now, but, depend upon it, that
no Eastern difficulty needs our intervention as a nation
so seriously, as the putting down both the Bashi-Ba-
zouks of ignorance and the Cossacks of sectarianism
at home. "What has already been achieved in these
directions is a great thing; you must have lived some
time to know how great. An education, better in its
processes, better in its substance, than that which was
accessible to the great majority of well-to-do Britons
a quarter of a century ago, is now obtainable by every
child in the land. Let any man of my age go into
an ordinary elementary school, and, unless he was un-
usually fortunate in his youth, he will tell you that
the educational method, the intelligence, patience, and
good temper on the teacher's part, which are now at
the disposal of the veriest waifs and wastrels of society,
are things of which he had no experience in those
costly middle-class schools, which were so ingeniously
contrived as to combine all the evils and shortcomings
of the great public schools with none of their advan-
tages. Many a man, whose so-called education cost a
good deal of valuable money and occupied many a year
of invaluable time, leaves the inspection of a well-

84 TECHNICAL EDUCATION".

but to the being able to pass examinations successfully ;
especially if encouragement is given to the mischievous
delusion tliat brainwork is, in itself, and apart from its
quality, a nobler or more respectable thing than handi-
worksuch education may be a deadly mischief to the
workman, and lead to the rapid ruin of the industries
it is intended to serve.

I know that I am expressing the opinion of some
of the largest as well as the most enlightened employ-
ers of labour, when I say that there is a real danger
that, from the extreme of no education, we may run
to the other extreme of over-education of handicrafts-
men. And I apprehend that what is true for the ordi-
nary hand-worker is true for the foreman. Activity,
probity, knowledge of men, ready mother-wit, supple-
mented by a good knowledge of the general principles
involved in his business, are the making of a good
foreman. If he possess these qualities, no amount of
learning will fit him better for his position; while
the course of life and the habit of mind required for
the attainment of such learning may, in various direct
g,nd indirect ways, act as direct disqualifications for it.

Keeping in mind, then, that the two things to be
avoided are, the delay of the entrance of boys into
practical life, and the substitution of exhausted book-
worms for shrewd, handy men, in our works and fac-
tories, let us consider what may be wisely and safely
attempted in the way of improving the education of
the handicraftsman.

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 85

First, H look to the elementary schools now happily
established all over the country. I am not going to
criticise or find fault with them ; on the contrary, their
establishment seems to me to be the most important
and the most beneficial result of the corporate action
of the people in our day. A great deal is said of
British interests just now, but, depend upon it, that
no Eastern difficulty needs our intervention as a nation
so seriously, as the putting down both the Bashi-Ba-
zouks of ignorance and the Cossacks of sectarianism
at home. What has already been achieved in these
directions is a great thing; you must have lived some
time to know how great. An education, better in its
processes, better in its substance, than that which was
accessible to the great majority of well-to-do Britons
a quarter of a century ago, is now obtainable by every
child in the land. Let any man of my age go into
an ordinary elementary school, and, unless he was un-
usually fortunate in his youth, he will tell you that
the educational method, the intelligence, patience, and
good temper on the teacher's part, which are now at
the disposal of the veriest waifs and wastrels of society,
are things of which he had no experience in those
costly middle-class schools, which were so ingeniously
contrived as to combine all the evils and shortcomings
of the great public schools with none of their advan-
tages. Many a man, whose so-called education cost a
good deal of valuable money and occupied many a year
of invaluable time, leaves the inspection of a well-

86 TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

ordered elemeBtary school devoutly wishing that, in Ms
young days, lie had had the chance of being as well
taught as these boys and girls are.

But while, in view of such an advance in general
education, I willingly obey the natural impulse to be
thanif ul, I am not willing altogether to rest. I want
to see instruction in elementary science and in art more
thoroughly incorporated in the educational system. At
present, it is being administered by driblets, as if it
were a potent medicine, "a few drops to be taken
occasionally in a teaspoon." Every year I notice that
that earnest and untiring friend of yours and of mine,
Sir John Lubbock, stirs up the Government of the
day in the House of Commons on this subject; and
also that, every year, he, and the few members of the
House of Commons, such as Mr. Playfair, who sympa-
thise with him, are met with expressions of warm
admiration for science in general, and reasons at large
for doing nothing in particular. But now that Mr.
Forster, to whom the education of the coimtry owes so
much, has announced his conversion to the right faith,
I begin to hope that, sooner or later, things will mend.

I have given what I believe to be a good reason for
the assumption, that the keeping at school of boys,
who are to be handicraftsmen, beyond the age of thirteen
or fourteen is neither practicable nor desirable; and,
as it is quite certain, that, with justice to other and
Ao less important branches of education, nothing more
than the rudiments of science and art teaching can be

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 87

introduced into elementary schools, we must seek else-
where for a supplementary training in these subjects,
and, if need be, in foreign languages, which may go
on after the workman's life has begun.

The means of acquiring the scientific and artistic
part of this training already exists in full working order,
in the first place, in the classes of the Science and Art
Department, which are, for the most part, held in the
evening, so as to be accessible to all who choose to
avail themselves of them after working hours. The
great advantage of these classes is that they bring the
means of instruction to the doors of the factories and
workshops; that they are no artificial creations, but
by their very existence prove the desire of the people
for them; and finally, that they admit of indefinite
development in proportion as they are wanted. I have
often expressed the opinion, and I repeat it here, that*
during the eighteen years they have been in existence,
these classes have done incalculable good ; and I can say,
of my own knowledge, that the Department spares no
pains and trouble in trying to increase their usefulness
and ensure the soundness of their work.

No one knows better than my friend Colonel Don-
nelly, to whose clear views and great administrative
abilities so much of the successful working of the science
classes is due, that there is much to be done before the
system can be said to be thoroughly satisfactory. The
instruction given needs to be made more systematic and
especially more practical; the teachers are of very un-

88 TECHNICAL EDUCATION

equal excellence, and not a few stand much in need of
instruction themselves, not only in the subjects which
they teach, but in the objects for which they teach. I
daresay you have heard of that proceeding, reprobated
by all true sportsmen, which is called " shooting for the
pot. 33 Well, there is such a thing as " teaching for the
pot " teaching, that is, not that your scholar may know,
but that he may count for payment among those who
pass the examination ; and there are some teachers, hap-
pily not many, who have yet to learn that the examiners
of the Department regard them as poachers of the worst
description.

"Without presuming in any way to speak in the name
of the Department, I think I may say, as a matter which
has come under my own observation, that it is doing its
best to meet all these difficulties. It systematically pro-
motes practical instruction in the classes; it affords
facilities to teachers who desire to learn their business
thoroughly ; and it is always ready to aid in the suppres-
sion of pot-teaching.

All this is, as you may imagine, highly satisfactory
to me. I see that spread of scientific education, about
which I have so often permitted myself to worry the
public, become, for all practical purposes, an accom-
plished fact. Grateful as I am for all that is now being
done, in the same direction, in our higher schools and
universities, I have ceased to have any anxiety about the
wealthier classes. Scientific knowledge is spreading by
what the alchemists called a " distillatio per ascensum ; "

TEOHOTCAL EDUCATION 89

and nothing now can prevent it from continuing to distil
upwards and permeate English society, until, in the
remote future, there shall be no member of the legis-
lature who does not know as much of science as an
elementary school-boy ; and even the heads of houses in
our venerable seats of learning shall acknowledge that
natural science is not merely a sort of University back-
door through which inferior men may get at their de-
grees. Perhaps this apocalyptic vision is a little wild ;
and I feel I ought to ask pardon for an outbreak of
enthusiasm, which, I assure you, is not my commonest
failing.

I have said that the Government is already doing
a great deal in aid of that kind of technical education for
handicraftsmen which, to my mind, is alone worth seek-
ing. Perhaps it is doing as much as it ought to do, even
in this direction. Certainly there is another kind of help
of the most important character, for which we may look
elsewhere than to the Government. The great mass of
mankind have neither the liking, nor the aptitude, for
either literary, or scientific, or artistic pursuits; nor,
indeed, for excellence of any sort. Their ambition is to
go through life with moderate exertion and a fair share
of ease, doing common things in a common way. And a
great blessing and comfort it is that the majority of men
are of this mind ; for the majority of things to be done
are common things, and are quite well enough done
when, commonly done. The great end of life is not
knowledge but action. What men need is, as much

90 TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

knowledge as they can assimilate and organise into a
basis for action ; give them more and it may become
injurious. One knows people who are as heavy and
stupid from undigested learning as others are from over-
fulness of meat and drink. But a small percentage of
the population is born with that most excellent quality, a
desire for excellence, or with special aptitudes of some
sort or another ; Mr. Galton tells us that not more than
one in four thousand may be expected to attain distinc-
tion, and not more than one in a million some share of
that intensity of instinctive aptitude, that burning thirst
for excellence, which is called genius.

Now, the most important object of all educational
schemes is to catch these exceptional people, and turn
them to account for the good of society. No man can
say where they will crop up ; like their opposites, the
fools and knaves, they appear sometimes in the palace,
and sometimes in the hovel ; but the great thing to be
aimed at, I was almost going to say the most important
end of all social arrangements, is to keep these glorious
sports of Nature from being either corrupted by luxury
or starved by poverty, and to put them into the position
in which they can do the work for which they are spe-
cially fitted.

Thus, if a lad in an elementary school showed signs
of special capacity, I would try to provide him with the
means of continuing his education after his daily work-
ing life had begun ; if, in the evening classes, he devel-
oped special capabilities in the direction of science or of

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 91

drawing, I would try to secure him an apprenticeship to
some trade in which those powers would have applica-
bility. Or, if he chose to become a teacher, he should
have the chance of so doing. Finally, to the lad of
genius, the one in a million, I would make accessible the
highest and most complete training the country could
afford. "Whatever that might cost, depend upon it the
investment would be a good one. I weigh my words
when I say that if the nation could purchase a potential
"Watt, or Davy, or Paraday, at the cost of a hundred
thousand pounds down, he would be dirt-cheap at the
money. It is a mere commonplace and everyday piece
of knowledge, that what these three men did has pro-
duced untold millions of wealth, in the narrowest eco-
nomical sense of the word.

Therefore, as the sum and crown of what is to be
done for technical education, I look to the provision of
a machinery for winnowing out the capacities and giving
them scope. "When I was a member of the London
School Board, I said, in the course of a speech, that our
business was to provide a ladder, reaching from the
gutter to the university, along which every child in the
three kingdoms should have the chance of climbing as far
as he was fit to go. This phrase was so much bandied
about at the time, that, to say truth, I am rather tired
of it ; but I know of no other which so fully expresses
my belief, not only about education in general, but about
technical education in particular.

The essential foundation of all the organisation

90 TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

knowledge as they can assimilate and organise into a
basis for action ; give them more and it may become
injurious. One knows people who are as heavy and
stupid from undigested learning as others are from over-
fulness of meat and drink. But a small percentage of
the population is born with that most excellent quality, a
desire for excellence 3 or with special aptitudes of some
sort or another ; Mr. Galton tells us that not more than
one in four thousand may be expected to attain distinc-
tion, and not more than one in a million some share of
that intensity of instinctive aptitude, that burning thirst
for excellence, which is called genius.

Now, the most important object of all educational
schemes is to catch these exceptional people, and turn
them to account for the good of society. No man can
say where they will crop up ; like their opposites, the
fools and knaves, they appear sometimes in the palace,
and sometimes in the hovel ; but the great thing to be
aimed at, I was almost going to say the most important
end of all social arrangements, is to keep these glorious
sports of Nature from being either corrupted by luxury
or starved by poverty, and to put them into the position
in which they can do the work for which they are spe-
cially fitted.

Thus, if a lad in an elementary school showed signs
of special capacity, I would try to provide him with the
means of continuing his education after his daily work-
ing life had begun ; if, in the evening classes, lie devel-
oped special capabilities in the direction of science or of

TECHNICAL EDUCATION. 91

drawing, I would try to secure him an apprenticeship to
some trade in which those powers would have applica-
bility. Or, if he chose to become a teacher, he should
hare the chance of so doing. Finally, to the lad of
genius, the one in a million, I would make accessible the
highest and most complete training the country could
afford. Whatever that might cost, depend upon it the
investment would be a good one. I weigh my words
when I say that if the nation could purchase a potential
"Watt, or Davy, or Faraday, at the cost of a hundred
thousand pounds down, he would be dirt-cheap at the
money. It is a mere commonplace and everyday piece
of knowledge, that what these three men did has pro-
duced untold millions of wealth, in the narrowest eco-
nomical sense of the word.

Therefore, as the sum and crown of what is to be
done for technical education, I look to the provision of
a machinery for winnowing out the capacities and giving
them scope. When I was a member of the London
School Board, I said, in the course of a speech, that our
business was to provide a ladder, reaching from the
gutter to the university, along which every child in the
three kingdoms should have the chance of climbiDg as far
as he was fit to go. This phrase was so much bandied
about at the time, that, to say truth, I am rather tired
of it ; but I know of no other which so fully expresses
my belief, not only about education in general, but about
technical education in particular.

The essential foundation of all the organisation

92 TECHNICAL EDUCATION.

needed for the promotion of education among handi-
craftsmen will, I believe, exist in this country, when
every working lad can feel that society has done as much
as lies in its power to remove all needless and artificial
obstacles from his path ; that there is no barrier, except
such as exists in the nature of things, between himself
and whatever place in the social organisation he is fitted
to fill ; and, more than this, that, if he has capacity and
industry, a hand is held out to help him along any path
which is wisely and honestly chosen.

I have endeavoured to point out to you that a great
deal of such an organisation already exists; and I am
glad to be able to add that there is a good prospect that
what is wanted will, before long, be supplemented.

Those powerful and wealthy societies, the livery
companies of the City of London, remembering that
they are the heirs and representatives of the trade guilds
of the Middle Ages, are interesting themselves in the
question. So far back as 1872 the Society of Arts
organised a system of instruction in the technology of
arts and manufactures, for persons actually employed in
factories and workshops, who desired to extend and im-
prove their knowledge of the theory and practice of
their particular avocations ; * and a considerable subsidy,
in aid of the efforts of the Society, was liberally granted
by the Clothworkers' Company. "We have here the
hopeful commencement of a rational organisation for the

*See the "Programme" for 18T8, issued by the Society of Arts,
p. 14.

TECHNICAL EDUCATION', 93

promotion of excellence among handicraftsmen. Quite
recently, other of the livery companies have determined
upon giving their powerful, and, indeed, almost bound-
less, aid to the improvement of the teaching of handi-
crafts. They have already gone so far as to appoint a
committee to act for them ; and I betray no confidence
in adding that, some time since, the committee sought
the advice and assistance of several persons, myself
among the number.

Of course I cannot tell you what may be the result
of the deliberations of the committee ; but we may all
fairly hope that, before long, steps which will have a
weighty and a lasting influence on the growth and
spread of sound and thorough teaching among the handi-
craftsmen* of this country will be taken by the livery
companies of London.

[This hope lias been fully justified by the establishment of the
Cowper Street Schools, and that of the Central Institution of
the City and Guilds of London Institute. September 1881J

* It is perhaps advisable to remark that the important question of
the professional education of managers of industrial works is not
touched in the foregoing remarks.

IY.

ON ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN PHYSI-
OLOGY.

THE chief ground upon which I venture to recom-
mend that the teaching of elementary physiology should
form an essential part of any organised course of in-
struction in matters pertaining to domestic economy, is,
that a knowledge of even the elements of this subject
supplies those conceptions of the constitution and mode
of action of the living body, and of the nature of health
and disease, which prepare the mind to receive instruc-
tion from sanitary science.

It is, I think, eminently desirable that the hygienist
and the physician should find something in the public
mind to which they can appeal; some little stock of
universally acknowledged truths, which may serve as a
foundation for their warnings, and predispose towards
an intelligent obedience to their recommendations.

Listening to ordinary talk about health, disease, and
death, one is often led to entertain a doubt whether the
speakers believe that the course of natural causation
runs as smoothly in the human body as elsewhere. In-
dications are too often obvious of a strong, though per-

ELEMENTARY INSTEUOTIOIsr m PHYSIOLOGY. 95

liaps an unavowed and half unconscious, undercurrent
of opinion that the phenomena of life are not only
widely different, in their superficial characters and in
their practical importance, from other natural events,
but that they do not follow in that definite order which
characterises the succession of all other occurrences, and
the statement of which we call a law of nature.

Hence, I think, arises the want of heartiness of be-
lief in the value of knowledge respecting the laws of
health, and disease, and of the foresight and care to
which, knowledge is the essential preliminary, which is
so often noticeable; and a corresponding laxity and
carelessness in practice, the results of which are too fre-
quently lamentable.

It is said that among the many religious sects of
Kussia, there is one which holds that all disease is brought
about by the direct and special interference of the Deity,
and which, therefore, looks with repugnance upon both
preventive and curative measures as alike blasphemous
interferences with the will of God. Among ourselves,
the "Peculiar People" are, I believe, the only persons
who bold the like doctrine in its integrity, and carry it
out with logical rigour. But many of us are old enough
to recollect that the administration of chloroform in as^
suagement of the pangs of childbirth was, at its intro-
duction, strenuously resisted upon similar grounds.

I am not sure that the feeling, of which the doctrine
to which I have referred is the full expression, does not
lie at the bottom of the minds of a great many people

5

96 ELEMENTARY IFSTRUOTION" IN PHYSIOLOGY.

who yet would vigorously object to give a verbal as-
sent to the doctrine itself. However this may be, the
main point is that sufficient knowledge has now been,
acquired of vital phenomena, to justify the assertion,
that the notion, that there is anything exceptional about
these phenomena, receives not a particle of support from
any known fact. On the contrary, there is a vast and
an increasing mass of evidence that birth and death,
health and disease, are as much parts of the ordinary
stream of events as the rising and setting of the sun,
or the changes of the moon ; and that the living body
is a mechanism, the proper working of which we term
health; its disturbance, disease; its stoppage, death.
The activity of this mechanism is dependent upon many
and complicated conditions, some of which arc hope-
lessly beyond our control, while others are readily ac-
cessible, and are capable of being indefinitely modified
by our own actions. The business of the hygienist and
of the physician is to know the range of these modifi-
able conditions, and how to influence them towards the
maintenance of health and the prolongation of Kfe ; the
business of the general public is to give an intelligent
assent, and a ready obedience based upon that assent, to
the rules laid down for their guidance by such experts.
But an intelligent assent is an assent based upon knowl-
edge, and the knowledge which is here in question
means an acquaintance with the elements of physiology.
It is not difficult to acquire such knowledge. What
is true, to a certain extent, of all the physical sciences,

ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY, 97

is eminently characteristic of physiology the difficulty
of the subject begins beyond the stage of elementary
knowledge, and increases with every stage of progress.
While the most highly trained and the best furnished
intellect may find all its resources insufficient, when it
strives to reach the heights and penetrate into the depths
of the problems of physiology, the elementary and fun-
damental truths can be made clear to a child.

ISTo one can have any difficulty in comprehending
the mechanism of circulation or respiration ; or the gen-
eral mode of operation of the organ of vision ; though
the unravelling of all the minutiae of these processes,
may, for the present, baffle the conjoined attacks of the
most accomplished physicists, chemists, and mathema-
ticians. To know the anatomy of the human body,
with even an approximation to thoroughness, is the work
of a life; but as much as is needed for a sound com-
prehension of elementary physiological truths, may be
learned in a week.

A knowledge of the elements of physiology is not
only easy of acquirement, but it may be made a real
and practical acquaintance with the facts, as far as it
goes. The subject of study is always at hand, in one-
self. The principal constituents of the skeleton, and
the changes of form of contracting muscles, may be felt
through one's own skin. The beating of one^s heart,
and its connection with the pulse, may be noted; the
influence of the valves of one's own veins may be
shown ; the movements of respiration may be observed ;

98 ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY.

while the wonderful phenomena of sensation afford an
endless field for curious and interesting self-study. The
prick of a needle will yield, in a drop of one's own
blood, material for microscopic observation of phenom-
ena which lie at the foundation of all biological concep-
tions; and a cold, with its concomitant coughing and
sneezing, may prove the sweet uses of adversity by
helping one to a clear conception of what is meant by
"reflex action. 53

Of course there is a limit to this physiological self-
examination. But there is so close a solidarity between
ourselves and our poor relations of the animal world,
that our inaccessible inward parts may be supplemented
by theirs. A comparative anatomist knows that a sheep's
heart and lungs, or eye, must not be confounded with
those of a man ; but, so far as the comprehension of
the elementary facts of the physiology of circulation, of
respiration, and of vision goes, the ono furnishes the
needful anatomical data as well as the other.

Thus, it is quite possible to give instruction in ele-
mentary physiology in such a manner as, not only to
confer knowledge, which, for the reason I have men-
tioned, is useful in itself ; but to serve the purposes of
a training in accurate observation, and in the methods
of reasoning of physical science. But that is an advan-
tage which I mention only incidentally, as the present
Conference does not deal with education in the ordi-
nary sense of the word.

It will not be suspected that I wish to make phys-

ELEMENTAEY INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY. 99

iologists of all the world. It would be as reasonable
to accuse an advocate of the "three B's" of a desire
to make an orator, an author, and a mathematician of
everybody. A stumbling reader, a pot-hook writer, and
an arithmetician who has not got beyond the rule of
three, is not a person of brilliant acquirements ; but the
difference between such a member of society and one
who can neither read, write, nor cipher is almost inex-
pressible; and no one now-a-days doubts the value of
instruction, even if it goes no farther.

The saying that a little knowledge is a dangerous
thing is, to my mind, a very dangerous adage. If
knowledge is real and genuine, I do not believe that it
is other than a very valuable possession, however infini-
tesimal its quantity may be. Indeed, if a little knowl-
edge is dangerous, where is the man who has so much
as to be out of danger?

If "William Harvey's life-long labours had revealed to
him a tenth part of that which may be made sound
and real knowledge to our boys and girls, he would not
only have been what he was, the greatest physiologist
of his age, but he would have loomed upon the seven-
teenth century as a sort of intellectual portent. Our
"little knowledge" would have been to him a great,
astounding, unlooked-for vision of scientific truth.

I really see no harm which can come of giving our
children a little knowledge of physiology. But then,
as I have said, the instruction must be real, based upon
observation, eked out by good explanatory diagrams

100 ELEMESTTAKY INSTKTJCTIOF IS PHYSIOLOGY.

and models, and conveyed "by a teacher whose own
knowledge has been acquired by a study of the facts ;
and not the mere catechismal parrot-work which too
often usurps the place of elementary teaching.

It is, I hope, unnecessary for me to give a formal
contradiction to the silly fiction, which is assiduously
circulated by fanatics who not only ought to know, but
do know, that their assertions are untrue, that I have
advocated the introduction of that experimental disci-
pline which is absolutely indispensable to the professed
physiologist, into elementary teaching.

But while I should object to any experimentation
which can justly be called painful, for the purpose of
elementary instruction; and, while, as a member of a
late Koyal Commission, I gladly did my best to prevent
the infliction of needless pain, for any purpose ; I think
it is my duty to take this opportunity of expressing my
regret at a condition of the law which permits a boy to
troll for pike, or set lines with live frog bait, for idle
amusement; and, at the same time, lays the teacher of
that boy open to the penalty of fine and imprisonment,
if he uses the same animal for the purpose of exhibit-
ing one of the most beautiful and instructive of physio-
logical spectacles, the circulation in the web of the foot.
No one could undertake to affirm that a frog is not in-
convenienced by being wrapped up in a wet rag, and
having his toes tied out ; and it cannot be denied that
inconvenience is a sort of pain. But you must not in-
flict $ie least pain on a vertebrated animal for scientific

ELEHENTAKY INSTRUCTION IN PHYSIOLOGY. 101

purposes (though you may do a good deal in that way
for gam or for sport) without due licence of the Secre-
tary of State for the Home Department, granted under
the authority of the Yivisection Act.

So it comes about, that, in this present year of grace
1877, two persons may be charged with cruelty to ani-
mals. One has impaled a frog, and suffered the creat-
ure to writhe about in that condition for hours; the
other has pained the animal no more than one of us
would be pained by tying strings round his fingers, and
keeping him in the position of a hydropathic patient.
The first offender says, " I did it because I find fishing
very amusing," and the magistrate bids him depart in
peace ; nay, probably wishes him good sport. The sec-
ond pleads, " I wanted to impress a scientific truth, with
a distinctness attainable in no other way, on the minds of
my scholars," and the magistrate fines him five pounds.

I cannot but think that this is an anomalous and
not wholly creditable state of things.

V.
JOSEPH PRIESTLEY.

IF the man to perpetuate whose memory we have
this day raised a statue had been asked on what part
of his busy life's work he set the highest value, he would
undoubtedly have pointed to his voluminous contribu-
tions to theology. In season and out of season, he was
the steadfast champion of that hypothesis respecting the
Divine nature which is termed Unitarianism by its
friends and Socinianism by its foes. Eegardless of odds,
he was ready to do battle with all comers in that cause ;
and if no adversaries entered the lists, he would sally
forth to seek them.

To this, his highest ideal of duty, Joseph Priestley
sacrificed the vulgar prizes of life, which, assuredly, were
within easy reach of a man of his singular energy and
varied abilities. For this object, he put aside, as of sep-
ondary importance, those scientific investigations which
he loved so well, and in which he showed himself so
competent to enlarge the boundaries of natural knowl-
edge and to win fame. In this cause, he not only cheer-
fully suffered obloquy from the bigoted and the unthink-
ing, and came within sight of martyrdom ; but bore with

JOSEPH PRIESTLEY. 103

that which is mucla harder to be borne tlian all these, tlie
unfeigned astonishment and hardly disguised contempt
of a brilliant society, composed of men whose sympathy
and esteem must have been most dear to him, and to
whom it was simply incomprehensible that a philoso-
pher should seriously occupy himself with any form of
Christianity.

It appears to me that the man who, setting before
himself such an ideal of life, acted up to it consistently,
is worthy of the deepest respect, whatever opinion may
be entertained as to the real value of the tenets which
he so zealously propagated and defended.

But I am sure that I speak not only for myself, but
for all this assemblage, when I say that our purpose
to-day is to do honour, not to Priestley, the Unitarian
divine, but to Priestley, the fearless defender of rational
freedom in thought and in action : to Priestley, the phil :
osophie thinker ; to that^ Priestley who held a foremost
place among " the swift runners who hand over the lamp
of life," * and transmit from one generation to another
the fire kindled, in the childhood of the world, at the
Promethean altar of Science.

The main incidents of Priestley's life are so well
known that I need dwell upon them at no great length.

Born in 1733, at Fieldhead, near Leeds, and brought
up among Oalvinists of the straitest orthodoxy, the boy's

* " Quasi cursores, vital lampada tradont." LUCE. De Rerwn

ii. V8.

104 JOSEPH PEIESTLEY.

striking natural ability led to his being devoted to the
profession of a minister of religion; and, in 1752, he
was sent to the Dissenting Academy at Daventry an
institution which authority left undisturbed, though its
existence contravened the law. The teachers under
whose instruction and influence the young man came
at Daventry, carried out to the letter the injunction to
" try all things : hold fast that which is good, 33 and en-
couraged the discussion of every imaginable proposition
with complete freedom, the leading professors taking
opposite sides ; a discipline which, admirable as it may
be from a purely scientific point of view, would seem
to be calculated to make acute, rather than sound, di-
vines. Priestley tells us, in his " Autobiography," that
he generally found himself on the unorthodox side : and,
as he grew older, and his faculties attained their ma-
turity, this native tendency towards heterodoxy grew
with his growth and strengthened with his strength.
He passed from Calvinism to Arianism ; and finally, in
middle life, landed in that very broad form of Unita-
rianism, by which his craving after a credible and con-
sistent theory of things was satisfied.

On leaving Daventry, Priestley became minister of
a congregation, first at Needham Market, and secondly
at Nantwich ; but whether on account of his heterodox
opinions, or of the stuttering which impeded his expres-
sion of them in the pulpit, little success attended Ms
efforts in this capacity. In 1761, a career much more
suited to his abilities became open to him. He was

JOSEPH PEIESTLEY. 105

appointed "tutor in tlie languages" in the Dissenting
Academy at Warrington, In which capacity, besides giv-
ing three courses of lectures, he taught Latin, Greek,
French, and Italian, and read lectures on the Theory
of Language and Universal Grammar, on Oratory, Phil-
osophical Criticism, and Civil law. And it is interest-
ing to observe that, as a teacher, he encouraged and
cherished in those whom he instructed, the freedom
which he had enjoyed, in his own student days, at Dav-
entry. One of his pupils tells us that,

"At the conclusion of his lecture, he always encouraged his stu-
dents to express their sentiments relative to the subject of it, and
to urge any objections to what he had delivered, without reserve.
It pleased him when any one commenced such a conversation. In
order to excite the freest discussion, he occasionally invited the
students to drink tea with him, in order to canvass the subjects of
his lectures. I do not recollect that he ever showed the least dis-
pleasure at the strongest objections that were made to what he de-
livered, but I distinctly remember the smile of approbation with
which he usually received them ; nor did he fail to point out, in a
very encouraging manner, the ingenuity or force of any remarks
that were made, when they merited these characters. His object,
as well as Dr. Aikin's, was to engage the students to examine and
decide for themselves, uninfluenced by the sentiments of any other
persons." *

It would be difficult to give a better description of a
model teacher than that conveyed in tliese words.

From his earliest days, Priestley had shown a strong
bent towards the study of nature ; and his brother
Timothy tells us that the boy put spiders into bottles,
to see how long they would live in the same air a

* "Life and Correspondence of Dr. Priestley," by J. T. Rutt, Yol. i.
p. 50.

106 JOSEPH PEIESTLEY.

curious anticipation of the investigations of Ms later
years. At ISTantwich, where he set up a school, Priestley
informs us that he bought an air pump, an electrical
machine, and other instruments, in the use of which
he instructed his scholars. But he does not seem to
have devoted himself seriously to physical science until
1766, when he had the great good fortune to meet Ben-
jamin Franklin, whose friendship he ever afterwards
enjoyed. Encouraged by Franklin, he wrote a "His-
tory of Electricity, 33 which was published in 1767, and
appears to have met with considerable success.

In the same year, Priestley left "Warrington to be-
come the minister of a congregation at Leeds; and,
here, happening to live next door to a public brewery,
as he says,

" I, at first, amused myself with making experiments on the fixed
air which I found ready-made in the process of fermentation. When
I removed from that house I was under the necessity of making
fixed air for myself ; and one experiment leading to another, as I
have distinctly and faithfully noted in my various publications on
the subject, I by degrees contrived a convenient apparatus for the
purpose, but of the cheapest kind.

" "When I began these experiments I knew very little of chem-
istry, and had, in a manner, no idea on the subject before I at-
tended a course of chemical lectures, delivered in the Academy at
"Warrington, by Dr. Turner of Liverpool. But I have often thought
that, upon the whole, this circumstance was no disadvantage to mo ;
as, in this situation, I was led to devise an apparatus and processes
of my own, adapted to my peculiar views ; whereas, if I had been
previously accustomed to the usual chemical processes, I should not
have so easily thought of any other, and without new modes of oper-
ation, I should hardly have discovered anything materially new." *

* "Autobiography," 100, 101.

JOSEPH PRIESTLEY. 107

The first outcome of Priestley's chemical work, pub-
lished in 1772, was of a very practical character. He
discovered the way of impregnating water with an ex-
cess of " fixed air/' or carbonic acid, and thereby pro-
ducing what we now know as "soda water" a service
to naturally, and still more to artificially, thirsty souls,
which those whose parched throats and hot heads are
cooled by morning draughts of that beverage, cannot
too gratefully acknowledge. In the same year, Priestley
communicated the extensive series of observations which
his industry and ingenuity had accumulated, in the course
of four years, to the Eoyal Society, under the title of
"Observations on Different Kinds of Air" a memoir
which was justly regarded of so much merit and im-
portance, that the Society at once conferred upon the
author the highest distinction in their power, by award-
ing him the Copley Medal.

In 1771 a proposal was made to Priestley to accom-
pany Captain Cook in his second voyage to the South
Seas. He accepted it, and his congregation agreed to
pay an assistant to supply his place during his absence.
But the appointment lay in the hands of the Board of
Longitude, of which certain clergymen were members ;
and whether these worthy ecclesiastics feared that Priest-
ley's presence among the ship's company might expose
his Majesty's Sloop Resolution to the fate which afore-
time befell a certain ship that went from Joppa to
Tarshish; or whether they were alarmed lest a Socin-
ian should undermine that piety which, in the days of

108 JOSEPH PKIESTLEY.

Commodore Trimnion, so strikingly characterised sailors,
does .not appear; but, at any rate, they objected to
Priestley " on account of Ms religious principles," and
appointed the two Forsters, whose "religious princi-
ples/' if they had been known to these well-meaning
but not far-sighted persons, would probably have sur-
prised them.

In 1772 another proposal was made to Priestley.
Lord Shelburne, desiring a "literary companion," had
been brought into communication with Priestley by the
good offices of a friend of both, Dr. Price ; and offered
him the nominal post of librarian, with a good house
and appointments, and an annuity in case of the termi-
nation of the engagement. Priestley accepted the offer,
and remained with Lord Shelburne for seven years,
sometimes residing at Calne, sometimes travelling abroad
with the Earl.

Why the connection terminated has never been ex-
actly known; but it is certain that Lord Shelburne
behaved with the utmost consideration and kindness
towards Priestley ; that he fulfilled his engagements to
the letter; and that, at a later period, he expressed a
desire that Priestley should return to his old footing
in his house. Probably enough, the politician, aspiring
to the highest offices in the state, may have found the
position of the protector of a man who was being de-
nounced all over the country as an infidel and an atheist
somewhat embarrassing. In fact, a passage in Priest-
ley's "Autobiography" on the occasion of the publi-

JOSEPH PRIESTLEY. 109

cation of his "Disquisitions relating to Matter and
Spirit/' which, took place in 1777, indicates pretty clearly
the state of the case:

"(126) It being probable that this publication would be un-
popular, and might be the means of bringing odium on my patron,
several attempts were made by his friends, though none by himself,
to dissuade me from persisting in it. But being, as I thought, en-
gaged in the cause of important truth, I proceeded without regard
to any consequences, assuring them that this publication should not
be injurious to his lordship."

It is not unreasonable to suppose that his lordship,
as a keen, practical man of the world, did not derive
much satisfaction from this assurance. The "evident
marks of dissatisfaction" which Priestley says he first
perceived in his patron in 1778, may well have arisen
from the peer's not unnatural uneasiness as to what his
domesticated, but not tamed, philosopher might write
next, and what storm might thereby be brought down on
his own head ; and it speaks very highly for Lord Shel-
burne's delicacy that, in the midst of such perplexities,
he made not the least attempt to interfere with Priest-
ley's freedom of action. In 1780, however, he intimated
to Dr. Price that he should be glad to establish Priestley
on his Irish estates : the suggestion was interpreted, as
Lord Shelburne probably intended it should be, and
Priestley left him, the annuity of 150 a year, which
had been promised in view of such a contingency, being
punctually paid.

After leaving Calne, Priestley spent some little time
in London, and then, having settled in Birmingham at

110 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY.

the desire of his brother-in-law, he was soon invited to
become the minister of a large congregation. This set-
tlement Priestley considered, at the time, to be "the
happiest event of his life." And well he might think
so ; for it gave him competence and leisure ; placed him
within reach of the best makers of apparatus of the day ;
made him a member of that remarkable " Lunar Soci-
ety," at whose meetings he could exchange thoughts
with such men as "Watt, "Wedgewood, Darwin, and
Boulton ; and threw open to him the pleasant house of
the Galtons of Barr, where these men, and others of less
note, formed a society of exceptional charm and intelli-
gence.*

But these halcyon days were ended by a bitter storm.
The French Eevolution broke out. An electric shock
ran through the nations ; whatever there was of corrupt
and retrograde, and, at the same time, a great deal of
what there was of best and noblest, in European society

* See " The Life of Mary Anne Schimmelpenninck." Mrs, Schimmel-
penninck (n&e Gralton) remembered Priestley very well, and her description
of him is worth quotation: "A man of admirable simplicity, gentleness
and kindness of heart, united with great acuteness of intellect. I can
never forget the impression produced on me by the serene expression of his
countenance. He, indeed, seemed present with God by recollection, and
with man by cheerfulness. I remember that, in the assembly of these dis-
tinguished men, amongst whom Mr. Boulton, by his noble manner, his fine
countenance (which much resembled that of Louis XIV.), and princely muni-
ficence, stood pre-eminently as the great Mecsenas ; even as a child, I used
to feel, when Dr. Priestley entered after him, that the glory of the one was
terrestrial, that of the other celestial ; and utterly far as I am removed from
a belief in the sufficiency of Dr. Priestley's theological creed, I cannot but
here record this evidence of the eternal power of any portion of the truth
held in its vitality."

JOSEPH PRIESTLEY. HI

shuddered at the outburst of long-pent-up social fires.
Men's feelings were excited in a way that we, in this
generation, can hardly comprehend. Party wrath and
virulence were expressed in a manner unparalleled, and
it is to be hoped impossible, in our times ; and Priestley
and his friends were held up to public scorn, even in
Parliament, as foinenters of sedition. A " Church-and-
King" cry was raised against the Liberal Dissenters;
and, in Birmingham, it was intensified and specially
directed towards Priestley by a local controversy, in
which he had engaged with his usual vigour. In 1791,
the celebration of the second anniversary of the taking
of the Bastille by a public dinner, with which Priestley
had nothing whatever to do, gave the signal to the loyal
and pious mob, who, unchecked, and indeed to some
extent encouraged, by those who were responsible for
order, had the town at their mercy for three days. The
chapels and houses of the leading Dissenters were
wrecked, and Priestley and his family had to fly for
their lives, leaving library, apparatus, papers, and all
their possessions, a prey to the flames.

Priestley never returned to Birmingham. He bore
the outrages and losses inflicted upon him with extreme
patience and sweetness,* and betook himself to London.
But even his scientific colleagues gave Mm a cold shoul-

* Even Mrs. Priestley, who might be forgiven for regarding the destroy-
ers of her household gods with, some asperity, contents herself, in writing
to Mrs, Barbauld, with the sarcasm that the Birmingham people "will
scarcely find so many respectable characters, a second time, to make a bon-
fire of."

112 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY.

der; and though he was elected minister of a congrega-
tion at Hackney, he felt his position to be insecure, and
finally determined on emigrating to the United States.
He landed in America in 1794 ; lived quietly with his
sons at Northumberland, in Pennsylvania, where his pos-
terity still flourish ; and, clear-headed and busy to the
last, died on the 6th of February 1804.

Such were the conditions tinder which Joseph Priest-
ley did the work which lay before him, and then, as the
Norse Sagas say, went out of the story. The work itself
was of the most varied kind. No human interest was
without its attraction for Priestley, and few men have
ever had so many irons in the fire at once ; but, though
he may have burned his fingers a little, very few who
have tried that operation have burned their fingers so
little. He made admirable discoveries in science; his
philosophical treatises are still well worth reading; his
political works are full of insight and replete with the
spirit of freedom ; and while all these sparks flew off
from his anvil, the controversial hammer rained a hail of
blows on orthodox priest and bishop. While thus en-
gaged, the kindly, cheerful doctor felt no more wrath or
uncharitableness towards his opponents than a smith does
towards his iron. But if the iron could only speak !
and the priests and bishops took the point of view of the
iron.

No doubt what Priestley's friends repeatedly urged
upon him that he would have escaped the heavier trials

JOSEPH PBIESTLEY. 113

of Ms life and done more for the advancement of knowl-
edge, if lie had confined himself to his scientific pursuits
and let his fellow-men go their way was true. But it
seems to have been Priestley's feeling that he was a man
and a citizen before he was a philosopher, and that the
duties of the two former positions are at least as impera-
tive as those of the latter. Moreover, there are men (and
I think Priestley was one of them) to whom the satisfac-
tion of throwing down a triumphant fallacy is as great as
that which attends the discovery of a new truth; who
feel better satisfied with the government of the world,
when they have been helping Providence by knocking
an imposture on the head ; and who care even more for
freedom of thought than for mere advance of knowl-
edge. These men are the Oarnots who organise victory
for truth, and they are, at least, as important as the gen-
erals who visibly fight her battles in the field.

Priestley's reputation as a man of science rests upon
his numerous and important contributions to the chem-
istry of gaseous bodies ; and to form a just estimate of
the value of his work of the extent to which it ad-
vanced the knowledge of fact and the development of
sound theoretical views we must reflect what chemis-
try was in the first half of the eighteenth century.

The vast science which now passes under that name
had no existence. Air, water, and fire were still counted
among the elemental bodies; and though Van Hel-
mont, a century before, had distinguished different kinda

114 JOSEPH PKIESTLEY.

of air as gas ventosum and gas sylvestre, and Boyle and
Hales had experimentally defined the physical proper-
ties of air, and discriminated some of the various kinds
of aeriform bodies, no one suspected the existence of
the numerous totally distinct gaseous elements which are
now known, or dreamed that the air we breathe and the
water we drink are compounds of gaseous elements.

But, in 1754, a young Scotch physician, Dr. Black,
made the first clearing in this tangled backwood of
knowledge. And it gives one a wonderful impression
of the juvenility of scientific chemistry to think that
Lord Brougham, whom so many of us recollect, at-
tended Black's lectures when he was a student in Edin-
burgh. Black's researches gave the world the novel
and startling conception of a gas that was a permanent-
ly elastic fluid like air, but that differed from common
air in being much heavier, very poisonous, and in hav-
ing the properties of an acid, capable of neutralising
the strongest alkalies ; and it took the world some time
to become accustomed to the notion.

A dozen years later, one of the most sagacious and
accurate investigators who has adorned this, or any
other, country, Henry Cavendish, published a memoir
in the " Philosophical Transactions," in which he deals
not only with the " fixed air " (now called carbonic acid
or carbonic anhydride) of Black, but with a inflammable
air," or what we now term hydrogen.

By the rigorous application of weight and measure
to all his processes, Cavendish implied the belief subse-

JOSEPH PKIESTLEY. 115

quently formulated by Lavoisier, that, in chemical pro-
cesses, matter is neither created nor destroyed, and in-
dicated the path along which all future explorers must
travel. Nor did he himself halt until this path led
him, in 1781, to the brilliant and fundamental discovery
that water is composed of two gases united in fixed
and constant proportions.

It is a trying ordeal for any man to be compared
with Black and Cavendish, and Priestley cannot be said
to stand on their level. Nevertheless, his achievements
are not only great in themselves, but truly wonderful,
if we consider the disadvantages under which he la-
boured. Without the careful scientific training of Black,
without the leisure and appliances secured by the wealth
of Cavendish, he scaled the walls of science as so many
Englishmen have done before and since his day; and
trusting to mother wit to supply the place of training,
and to ingenuity to create apparatus out of washing
tubs, he discovered more new gases than all his prede-
cessors put together had done. He laid the founda-
tions of gas analysis ; he discovered the complementary
actions of animal and vegetable life upon the constitu-
ents of the atmosphere ; and, finally, he crowned his work,
this day one hundred years ago, by the discovery of
that " pure dephlogisticated air J? to which the French
chemists subsequently gave the name of oxygen. Its
importance, as the constituent of the atmosphere which
disappears in the processes of respiration and combus-
tion, and is restored by green plants growing in sun-

116 JOSEPH PEIESTLEY.

shine, was proved somewhat later. For these brilliant
discoveries, the Koyal Society elected Priestley a fellow
and gave him their medal, while the Academies of Paris
and St. Petersburg conferred their membership upon
him. Edinburgh had made him an honorary doctor of
laws at an early period of his career; but, I need
hardly add, that a man of Priestley's opinions received
no recognition from the universities of his own country.

That Priestley's contributions to the knowledge of
chemical fact were of the greatest importance, and that
they richly deserve all the praise that has been awarded
to them, is unquestionable; but it must, at the same
time, be admitted that he had no comprehension of the
deeper significance of his work ; and, so far from con-
tributing anything to the theory of the facts which he
discovered, or assisting in their rational explanation, his
influence to the end of his life was warmly exerted in
favour of error. From first to last, he was a stiff ad-
herent of the phlogiston doctrine which, was prevalent
when his studies commenced ; and, by a curious irony
of fate, the man who by the discovery of what he called
." dephlogisticated air" furnished the essential datum for
the true theory of combustion, of respiration, and of the
composition of water, to the end of his days fought
against the inevitable corollaries from his own labours.
His last scientific work, published in 1800, bears the
title, " The Doctrine of Phlogiston established, and that
of the Composition of Water refuted."

When Priestley commenced his studies, the current

JOSEPH PRIESTLEY. 117

belief was, that, atmospheric air, freed from accidental
impurities, is a simple elementary substance, indestructi-
ble and unalterable, as water was supposed to be. When
a combustible burned, or when an animal breathed in
air, it was supposed that a substance, " phlogiston," the
matter of heat and light, passed from the burning or
breathing body into it, and destroyed its powers of sup-
porting life and combustion. Thus, air contained in a
vessel in which a lighted candle had gone out, or a liv-
ing animal had breathed until it could breathe no longer,
was called " phlogisticated." The same result was sup-
posed to be brought about by the addition of what
Priestley called "nitrous gas" to common air.

In the course of his researches, Priestley found that
the quantity of common air which can thus become
" phlogisticated," amounts to about one-fifth the volume
of the whole quantity submitted to experiment. Hence
it appeared that common air consists, to the extent of
four-fifths of its volume, of air which is already " phlo-
gisticated ;" while the other fifth is free from phlogiston,
or " dephlogisticated." On the other hand, Priestley
found that air "phlogisticated" by combustion or respira-
tion could be " dephlogisticated," or have the properties
of pure common air restored to it, by the action of
green plants in sunshine. The question, therefore, would
naturally arise as common air can be wholly phlogisti-
cated by combustion, and converted into a substance
which will no longer support, combustion, is it possible
to get air that shall be less phlogisticated than com-

118 - JOSEPH PEIESTLEY.

mon air, and consequently support combustion better
than common air does?

Now, Priestley says that, in 17W, the possibility of
obtaining air less pHogisticated than common air had not
occurred to him.^ But in pursuing his experiments
on the evolution of air from various bodies by means
of heat, it happened that, on the 1st of August 1774?
he threw the heat of the sun, by means of a large burn-
ing glass which he had recently obtained, upon a sub-
stance which was then called mercurius calcinatus per
#s, and which is commonly known as red precipitate.

" I presently found that, by means of this lens, air was expelled
from it very readily. Having got about three or four times as much
as the bulk of my materials, I admitted water to it, and found that
it was not imbibed by it. But what surprised me more than I can
well express, was that a candle burned in this air with a remarkably
vigorous flame, very much like that enlarged flame with which a
candle burns in nitrous air, exposed to iron or lime of sulphur ; but
as I had got nothing like this remarkable appearance from any kind
of air besides this particular modification of nitrous air, and I knew
no nitrous acid was used in the preparation of mercurim calcinatus,
I was utterly at a loss how to account for it.

"In this case also, though I did not give sufficient attention to
the circumstance at that time, the flame of the candle, besides
being larger, burned with more splendour and heat than in that
species of nitrous air; and a piece of red-hot wood sparkled in it,
exactly like paper dipped in a solution of nitre, and it consumed
very fast an experiment which I had never thought of trying with
nitrous air."f

Priestley obtained the same sort of air from red
lead, but, as he says himself, he remained in ignorance

* " Experlraenis and Observations on Different Kinds of Air," vol. ii.
P* 81- f -flK* PP- 34, 30.

JOSEPH PBIESTLEY. 119

of the properties of this new kind of air for seven
months, or until March 1775, when he found that the
new air behaved with " nitrous gas 3? in the same way
as the dephlogisticated part of common air does;* but
that, instead of being diminished to f our~fif ths, it almost
completely vanished, and, therefore, showed itself to be
"between five and six times as good as the best com-
mon air I have ever met with." f As this new air thus
appeared to be completely free from phlogiston, Priestley
called it "dephlogisticated air."

What was the nature of this air ? Priestley found
that the same kind of air was to be obtained by moisten-
ing with the spirit of nitre (which he terms nitrous
acid) any kind of earth that is free from phlogiston,
and applying heat; and consequently he says: "There
remained no doubt on my mind but that the atmos-
pherical air, or the thing that we breathe, consists of
the nitrous acid and earth, with so much phlogiston as
is necessary to its elasticity, and likewise so much more
as is required to bring it from its state of perfect purity
to the mean condition in which we find it. ?? $

Priestley's view, in fact, is that atmospheric air
is a kind of saltpetre, in which the potash is replaced
by some unknown earth. And in speculating on the
manner in which saltpetre is formed, he enunciates the
hypothesis, " that nitre is formed by a real decomposition
of the air itself, the loses that are presented to it hav-

* " Experiments and Observations on Different Kinds of Air," vol. ii.
p. 40. t HM* P- 4 8. \ IUd * P* 66 -

120 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY.

ing, in such, circumstances, a nearer affinity with the
spirit of nitre than that kind of earth with which it
is united in the atmosphere. 3 ' *

It would have been hard for the most ingenious
person to have wandered farther from the truth than
Priestley does in this hypothesis ; and, though Lavoisier
undoubtedly treated Priestley very ill, and pretended
to have discovered dephlogisticated air, or oxygen, as
he called it, independently, we can almost forgive him,
when we reflect how different were the ideas which
the great Erench chemist attached to the body which
Priestley discovered.

They are like two navigators of whom the first
sees a new country, but takes clouds for mountains
and mirage for lowlands; while the second determines
its length and breadth, and lays down on a chart its
exact place, so that, thenceforth, it serves as a guide
to his successors, and becomes a secure outpost whence
new explorations may be pushed.

Nevertheless, as Priestley himself somewhere re-
marks, the first object of physical science is to ascer-
tain facts, and the service which he rendered to chem-
istry by the definite establishment of a large number
of new and fundamentally important facts, is such as
to entitle him to a very high place among the fathers
of chemical science.

It is difficult to say whether Priestley's philosophical,

* " Experiments and Observations on Different Kinds of Air," vol. ii.
p. 60. The italics are Priestley's own.

JOSEPH PRIESTLEY. 121

political, or theological views were most responsible for
the bitter hatred which was borne to him by a large
body of his countrymen,* and which found its expres-
sion in the malignant insinuations- in which Burke, to his
everlasting shame, indulged in the House of Commons.

"Without containing much that will be new to the
readers of Hobbes, Spinoza, Collins, Hume, and Hartley,
and, indeed, while making no pretensions to originality,
Priestley's " Disquisitions relating to Matter and Spirit,"
and his " Doctrine of Philosophical Necessity illus-
trated," are among the most powerful, clear, and un-
flinching expositions of materialism and necessarianism
which exist in the English language, and are still well
worth reading.

Priestley denied the freedom of the will in the sense
of its self-determination; he denied the existence of a
soul distinct from the body ; and as a natural conse-
quence, he denied the natural immortality of man.

In relation to these matters English opinion, a cen-
tury ago, was very much what it is now.

A man may be a necessarian without incurring graver

* *' In all the newspapers and most of the periodical publications I was
represented as an unbeliever in Revelation, and no better than an atheist."
u Autobiography," Rutt. vol. i. p. 124. "On the walls of houses, etc.,
and especially where I usually went, were to be seen, in large characters,
<MAI>AN I-OR EVER; DAMN PRIESTLEY; NO PRESBYTERIANISM ; DAMN THE
PRESBYTERIANS/ etc. etc. ; and, at one time, I was followed by a number of
boys, who left their play, repeating what they had seen on the walls, and
shouting out, < Damn Priestley; damn Mm, damn him, for ever, for ewer,
etc. etc. This was no doubt a lesson which they had been taught by their
parents, and what they, I fear, had learned from their superiors." " Appeal
to the Public on the Subject of the Riots at Birmingham."

122 JOSEPH PEIESTLEY.

reproach than that implied in being called a gloomy
fanatic, necessarianism, though very shocking, haying a
note of Oalvinistic orthodoxy ; but, if a man is a ma-
terialist ; or, if good authorities say he is and must be
so, in spite of his assertion to the contrary ; or, if he
acknowledge himself unable to see good reasons for be-
lieving in the natural immortality of man, respectable
folks look upon him as an unsafe neighbour of a cash-
box, as an actual or potential sensualist, the more vir-
tuous in outward seeming, the more certainly loaded
with secret "grave personal sins."

Nevertheless, it is as certain as anything can be, that
Joseph Priestley was no gloomy fanatic, but as cheerful
and kindly a soul as ever breathed, the idol of children ;
a man who was hated only by those who did not know
him, and who charmed away the bitterest prejudices in
personal intercourse ; a man who never lost a friend,
and the best testimony to whose worth is the generous
and tender warmth with which his many friends vied
with one another in rendering Mm substantial help, in
all the crises of his career.

The unspotted purity of Priestley's life, the strict-
ness of his performance of every duty, his transparent
sincerity, the unostentatious and deep-seated piety which
breathes through all his correspondence, are in them-
selves a sufficient refutation of the hypothesis, invented
by bigots to cover uncharitableness, that such opinions
as his must arise from moral defects. And his statue
will do as good service as the brazen image that was set

JOSEPH PKIESTLEY. 123

upon a pole before the Israelites, if those who have been
bitten by the fiery serpents of sectarian hatred, which
still haunt this wilderness of a world, are made whole by
looking upon the image of a heretic, who was yet a saint.
Though Priestley did not believe in the natural im-
mortality of man, he held with an almost naive realism,
that man would be raised from the dead by a direct
exertion of the power of God, and thenceforward be
immortal. And it may be as well for those who may be
shocked by this doctrine to know that views, substan-
tially identical with Priestley's, have been advocated,
since his time, by two prelates of the Anglican Church :
by Dr. "Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, in his well-
known "Essays;"* and by Dr. Oourtenay, Bishop of
Kingston in Jamaica, the first edition of whose remark-
able book " On the Future States," dedicated to Arch-
bishop Whately, was published in 1843 and the second
in 1857. According to Bishop Courtenay,

" The death of the body will cause a cessation of all the activity
of the mind hy way of natural consequence ; to continue for ever
UNLESS the Creator should interfere."

And again:

u The natural end of human existence is the l first death,' the
dreamless slumber of the grave, wherein man lies spellbound, soul
and body, under the dominion of sin and death that whatever
modes of conscious existence, whatever future states of c life * or of
4 torment ' beyond Hades are reserved for man, are results of our
blessed Lord's victory over sin and death ; that the resurrection of

* First series. u On Some of the Peculiarities of the Christian Relig-
ion." Essay I. Kevelation of a Future State.

124 JOSEPH PKIESTLEY.

the dead must be preliminary to their entrance into either of the
future states, and that the nature and even existence of these states
and even the mere fact that there is a futurity of consciousness, can
"be known only through God's revelation of Himself in the Person
and the Gospel of His Son." P. 389.

And now hear Priestley:

"Man, according to this system (of materialism), is no more than
we now see of him. His being commences at the time of his con-
ception, or perhaps at an earlier period. The corporeal and mental
faculties, in being in the same substance, grow, ripen, and decay to-
gether; and whenever the system is dissolved it continues in a state
of dissolution till it shall please that Almighty Being who called it
into existence to restore it to life again." "Matter and Spirit,"
p. 49.

And again :

" The doctrine of the Scripture is, that God made man of the
dust of the ground, and by simply animating this organised matter,
-made man that living percipient and intelligent being that he is.
According to Revelation, death is a state of rest and insensibility,
and our only though sure hope of a future life is founded on the
doctrine of the resurrection of the whole man at some distant pe-
riod ; this assurance being sufficiently confirmed to us both by the
evident tokens of a Divine commission attending the persons who
delivered the doctrine, and especially by the actual resurrection of
Jesus Christ, which is more authentically attested than any other
fact in history." IUd. y p. 247.

"We all know that " a saint in crape is twice a saint
in lawn ; " but it is not yet admitted that the views
which are consistent with such saintliness in lawn, be-
come diabolical when held by a mere dissenter.*

* Not only is Priestley at one with Bishop Courtenay in this matter, but
with Hartley and Bonnet, both of them stout champions of Christianity.
Moreover, Archbishop Whately's essay is little better than an expansion of
the first paragraph of Hume's famous essay on the Immortality of the
Soul : " By the mere light of reason it seems difficult to prove the im-

JOSEPH PEIESTLEY. 125

I am not here either to defend or to attack Priestley's
philosophical views, and I cannot say that I am person-
ally disposed to attach much value to episcopal author-
ity in philosophical questions ; but it seems right to call
attention to the fact, that those of Priestley's opinions
which have brought most odium upon him, have "been
openly promulgated, without challenge, by persons oc-
cupying the highest positions in the State Church.

I must confess that what interests me most about
Priestley's materialism, is the evidence that he saw dimly
the seed of destruction which such materialism carries
within its own bosom. In the course of his reading for
his "History of Discoveries relating to Yision, Light,
and Colours," he had come upon the speculations of
Boscovich and Michell, and had been led to admit the
sufficiently obvious truth that our knowledge of mat-
ter is a knowledge of its properties; and that of its
substance if it have a substance we know nothing.
And this led to the further admission that, so far as we
can know, there may be no difference between the sub-
stance of matter and the substance of spirit (" Disquisi-
tions," p. 16). A step farther would have shown Priest-
ley that his materialism was, essentially, very little
different from the Idealism of his contemporary, the
Bishop of Cloyne.

mortality of the soul ; the arguments for It are commonly derired either,
from metaphysical topics, or moral, or physical But it is in reality the
Gospel, and the Gospel alone, that has brought life and immortality to ligJii} 1 *
It is impossible to imagine that a man of Whately's tastes and acquirements
had not read Hume or Hartley, though he refers to neither.

126 JOSEPH PEIESTLEY.

As Priestley's philosophy is mainly a clear statement
of the views of the deeper thinkers of his day, so are
his political conceptions based upon those of Locke.
Locke's aphorism that "the end of government is the
good of mankind/' is thus expanded by Priestley :

" It must necessarily be understood, therefore, whether it be
expressed or not, that all people live in society for their mutual
advantage ; so that the good and happiness of the members, that
is, of the majority of the members, of any state, is the great
standard by which everything relating to that state must finally be
determined." *

The little sentence here interpolated, " that is, of the
majority of the members of any state," appears to be
that passage which suggested to Bentham, according to
his own acknowledgment, the famous "greatest happi-
ness" formula, which by substituting "happiness" for
"good," has converted a noble into an ignoble princi-
ple. But I do not call to mind that there is any utter-
ance in Locke quite so outspoken as the following pas-
sage in the "Essay on the First Principles of Govern-
ment." After laying down as "a fundamental maxim
in all governments," the proposition that " kings, sena-
tors, and nobles" are "the servants of the public,"
Priestley goes on to say:

"But in the largest states, if the abuses of the government
should at any time be great and manifest ; if the servants of the
people, forgetting their masters and their masters' interest, should
pursue a separate one of their own ; if, instead of considering that

* " Essay on the First Principles of Government." Second edition,
, p. 13.

JOSEPH PEIESTLEY. 127

they are made for the people, they should consider the people as
made for them ; if the oppressions and violation, of right should he
great, flagrant, and universally resented ; if the tyrannical gover-
nors should have no friends hut a few sycophants, who had long
preyed upon the vitals of their fellow-citizens, and who might he
expected to desert a government whenever their interests should
he detached from it ; if, in consequence of these circumstances, it
should "become manifest that the risk which would he run in at-
tempting a revolution would he trifling, and the evils which might
be apprehended from it were far less than those which were actually
suffered and which were daily increasing ; in the name of God, I
ask, what principles are those which ought to restrain an injured
and insulted people from asserting their natural rights, and from
changing or even punishing their governors that is, their ser-
vants who had ahused their trust, or from altering the whole form
of their government, if it appeared to he of a structure so liable to
abused

As a Dissenter, subject to tlie operation of the Cor-
poration and Test Acts, and as a Unitarian, excluded
from the benefit of the Toleration Act, it is not sur-
prising to find that Priestley had very definite opinions
about Ecclesiastical Establishments ; the only wonder is
that these opinions were so moderate as the following
passages show them to have been :

" Ecclesiastical authority may have been necessary in the infant
state of society, and, for the same reason, it may perhaps continue
to be, in some degree, necessary as long as society is imperfect ;
and therefore may not be entirely abolished till civil governments
have arrived at a much greater degree of perfection. If, therefore,
I were asked whether I should approve of the immediate dissolu-
tion of all the ecclesiastical establishments in Europe, I should an-
swer, No. . . . Let experiment be first made of alterations, or,
which is the same thing, of better e&tabUsJiments than the present.
Let them be reformed in many essential articles, and then not
thrown aside entirely till it be found by experience that no good can
be made of them."

128 JOSEPH PEIESTLEY.

Priestley goes on to suggest four such reforms of
a capital nature :

" 1. Let the Articles of Faith to be subscribed by candidates for
the ministry be greatly reduced. In the formulary of the Church
of England, might not thirty-eight out of the thirty-nine be very
well spared ? It is a reproach to any Christian establishment if
every man cannot claim the benefit of it who can say that he be-
lieves in the religion of Jesus Christ as it is set forth in the !N"ew
Testament. You say the terms are so general that even Deists
would quibble and insinuate themselves. I answer that all the arti-
cles which are subscribed at present, by no means exclude Deists
who will prevaricate; and upon this scheme you would at least
exclude fewer honest men." *

The second reform suggested is the equalisation, in
proportion to work done, of the stipends of the clergy ;
the third, the exclusion of the bishops from Parliament ;
and the fourth, complete toleration, so that every man
may enjoy the rights of a citizen, and be qualified to
servo his country, whether he belong to the Established
Church or not.

Opinions such as those I have quoted, respecting the
duties and the responsibilities of governors, are the
commonplaces of modern Liberalism ; and Priestley's
views on Ecclesiastical Establishments would, I fear,
meet with but a cool reception, as altogether too con-
servative, from a large proportion of the lineal descend-
ants of the people who taught their children to cry
" Damn Priestley ;" and, with that love for the practi-
cal application of science which is the source of the

* "Utility of Establishments," in "Essay on First Principles of Govern-
ment," p. 198,

JOSEPH PKIESTLEY. 129

greatness of Birmingham, tried to set fire to the doctor's
house with sparks from his own electrical machine; there-
by giving the man they called an incendiary and raiser
of sedition against Church and King, an appropriately
experimental illustration of the nature of arson and riot.

If I have succeeded in putting before you the main
features of Priestley's wort, its value will become ap-
parent, when we compare the condition of the English
nation, as he knew it, with its present state.

The fact that France has been for eighty-five years
trying, without much success, to right herself after the
great storm of the Revolution, is not unfrequently cited
among us, as an indication of some inherent incapacity
for self-government among the French people. I think,
however, that Englishmen who argue thus, forget that,
from the meeting of the Long Parliament in 1640, to
the last Stuart rebellion in 1Y45, is a hundred and five
years, and that, in the middle of the last century, we
had but just safely freed ourselves from our Bourbons
and all that they represented. The corruption of our
state was as bad as that of the Second Empire. Bribery
was the instrument of government, and peculation its
reward. Four-fifths of the seats in the House of Com-
mons were more or less openly dealt with as property. A
minister had to consider the state of the vote market, and
the sovereign secured a sufficiency of "king's friends" by
payments allotted with retail, rather than royal, sagacity.

Barefaced and brutal immorality and intemperance

130 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY.

pervaded the land, from the highest to the lowest classes
of society. The Established Church was torpid, so far
as it was not a scandal ; but those who dissented from
it came within the meshes of the Act of Uniformity,
the Test Act, and the Corporation Act. By law, such a
man as Priestley, being a Unitarian, could neither teach
nor preach, and was liable to ruinous fines and long im-
prisonment.* In those days, the guns that were pointed
by the Church against the Dissenters were shotted. The
law was a cesspool of iniquity and cruelty. Adam Smith
was a new prophet whom few regarded, and commerce
was hampered by idiotic impediments, and ruined by
still more absurd help, on the part of government.

Birmingham, though already the centre of a consid-
erable industry, was a mere village as compared with
its present extent. People who travelled went about
armed, by reason of the abundance of highwaymen and
the paucity and inefficiency of the police. Stage coaches
had not reached Birmingham, and it took three clays to
get to London. Even canals were a recent and much
opposed invention.

Newton had laid the foundation of a mechanical con-
ception of the physical universe: Hartley, putting a
modern face upon ancient materialism, had extended
that mechanical conception to psychology ; Linnaeus and
Haller were beginning to introduce method and order
into the chaotic accumulation of biological facts. But
those parts of physical science which deal with heat

*In 1782 Doddridge was cited for teaching without the Bishop's
leave, at Northampton*

JOSEPH PEIESTLET. 131

electricity, and magnetism, and above all, chemistry, in
the modern sense, can hardly be said to have had an
existence. No one knew that two of the old elemental
bodies, air and water, are compounds, and that a third,
fire, is not a substance but a motion. The great indus-
tries that have grown out of the applications of modern
scientific discoveries had no existence, and the man who
should have foretold tlieir coming into being in the days
of his son, would have been regarded as a mad enthusiast.

In common with many other excellent persons,
Priestley believed that man is capable of reaching, and
will eventually attain, perfection. If the temperature
of space presented no obstacle, I should be glad to
entertain the same idea; but judging from the past
progress of our species, I am afraid that the globe
will have cooled down so far, before the advent of this
natural millennium, that we shall be, at best, perfected
Esquimaux. For all practical purposes, however, it is
enough that man may visibly improve his condition in
the course of a century or so. And, if the picture of
the state of things in Priestley's time, which I have
just drawn, have any pretence to accuracy, I think it
must be admitted that there has been a considerable
change for the better.

I need not advert to the well-worn topic of material
advancement, in a place in which the very stones testify
to that progress in the town of "Watt and of Boulton.
I will only remark, in passing, that material advance-
ment has its share in moral and intellectual progress.

132 JOSEPH PRIESTLEY.

Becky Sharp's acute remark that it is not difficult to be
virtuous on ten thousand a year, has its application to
nations ; and it is futile to expect a hungry and squalid
population to be anything but violent and gross. But
as regards other than material welfare, although perfec-
tion is not yet in sight even from the mast-head it is
surely true that things are much better than they were.

Take the upper and middle classes as a whole, and it
may be said that open immorality and gross intemperance
have vanished. Four and six bottle men are as extinct
as the dodo. "Women of good repute do not gamble,
and talk modelled upon Dean Swift's "Art of Polite
Conversation" would be tolerated in no decent kitchen.

Members of the legislature are not to be bought ;
and constituents are awakening to the fact that votes
must not be sold even for such trifles as rabbits and
tea and cake. Political power has passed into the hands
of the masses of the people. Those whom Priestley
calls their servants have recognised their position, and
have requested the master to be so good as to go to
school and fit himself for the administration of his prop-
erty. No civil disability attaches to any one on theo-
logical grounds, and the highest offices of the state are
open to Papist, Jew, or Secularist.*

Whatever men's opinions as to the policy of Estab-
lishment, no one can hesitate to admit that the clergy
of the Church are men of pure life and conversation,

* The recent proceedings of the House of Commons throw a doubt,
which it is to be hoped may speedily be removed, on the accuracy of
this statement. (September 1881.)

JOSEPH PKIESTLEY. 133

zealous in the discharge of their duties ; and, at present,
apparently, more bent on prosecuting one another than
on meddling with Dissenters. Theology itself has broad-
ened so much, that Anglican divines put forward doc-
trines more liberal than those of Priestley ; and, in our
state- supported churches, one listener may hear a sermon
to which Bossuet might have given his approbation,
while another may hear a discourse in which Socrates
would find nothing new.

But great as these changes may be, they sink into
insignificance beside the progress of physical science,
whether we consider the improvement of methods of
investigation, or the increase in bulk of solid knowledge.
Consider that the labours of Laplace, of Young, of Davy,
and of Faraday ; of Ouvier, of Lamarck, and of Eobert
Brown; of Yon Baer, and of Schwann; of Smith and
of Hutton, have all been carried on since Priestley dis-
covered oxygen ; and consider that they are now things
of the past, concealed by the industry of those who have
built upon them, as the first founders of a coral reef
are hidden beneath the life's work of their successors ;
consider that the methods of physical science are slowly
spreading into all investigations, and that proofs as valid
as those required by her canons of investigation, are
being demanded of all doctrines which ask for men's
assent ; and you will have a faint image of the astound-
ing difference in this respect between the nineteenth'
century and the eighteenth.

If we ask what is the deeper meaning of all these

134: JOSEPH PKIESTLEY.

vast changes, I think there can be but one reply. They
mean that reason has asserted and exercised her primacy
over all provinces of human activity : that ecclesiastical
authority has been relegated to its proper place; that
the good of the governed has been finally recognised
as the end of government, and the complete responsibil-
ity of governors to the people as its means ; and that the
dependence of natural phenomena in general, on the laws
of action of what we call matter has become an axiom.

But it was to bring these things about, and to en-
force the recognition of these truths, that Joseph Priest-
ley laboured. If the nineteenth century is other and
better than the eighteenth, it is, in great measure, to
him and to such men as he, that we owe the change.
If the twentieth century is to be better than tho nine-
teenth, it will be because there are among us men who
walk in Priestley's footsteps.

Such men are not those whom their own generation
delights to honour; such men, in fact, rarely trouble
themselves about honour, but ask, in another spirit than
Falstafl's, "What is honour? Who hath it? He that
died o ? Wednesday." But whether Priestley's lot be
theirs, and a future generation, in justice and in grati-
tude, set up their statues ; or whether their names and
fame are blotted out from remembrance, their work will
live as long as time endures. To all eternity, the sum
of truth and right will have been increased by their
means; to all eternity, falsehood and injustice will be
the weaker because they have lived.

71

ON THE METHOD OF ZADIG:

RETROSPECTIVE PBOPHECY AS A FUNCTION OF SCIENCE.
"Une marque plus sure que toutes celles de Zadig." CTTVIER.*

IT is a usual and a commendable practice to preface
the discussion of the views of a philosophic thinker by
some account of the man and of the circumstances which
shaped his life and coloured his way of looking at
things ; but, though Zadig is cited in one of the most
important chapters of Cuvier's greatest work, little is
known about him, and that little might perhaps be bet-
ter authenticated than it is.

It is said that he lived at Babylon in the time of
King Moabdar; but the name of Moabdar does not
appear in the list of Babylonian sovereigns brought to
light by the patience and the industry of the decipher-
ers of cuneiform inscriptions in these later years; nor
indeed am I aware that there is any other authority for
his existence than that of the biographer of Zadig, one
Arouet de Voltaire, among whose more conspicuous mer-

* "Discours sur les revolutions de la surface dtt globe,'* Reehwches wr
les ossemens fossiks, Ed. iv. t. i. p. 185.

136 0T THE METHOD OF ZADIGk

its strict historical accuracy is perhaps hardly to be reck-
oned.

Happily Zadig is in the position of a great many
other philosophers. What he was like when he was in
the flesh, indeed whether he existed at all, are matters of
no great consequence. What we care about in a light is
that it shows the way, not whether it is lamp or candle,
tallow or wax. Our only real interest in Zadig lies in
the conceptions of which he is the putative father ; and
his biographer has stated these with so much clearness
and vivacious illustration, that we need hardly feel a
pang, even if critical research should prove King Moab-
dar and all the rest of the story to be unhistorieal, and
reduce Zadig himself to the shadowy condition of a solar
myth.

Voltaire tells us that, disenchanted with life by sun-
dry domestic misadventures, Zadig withdrew from the
turmoil of Babylon to a secluded retreat on the banks of
the Euphrates, where he beguiled his solitude by the
study of nature. The manifold wonders of the world of
life had a particular attraction for the lonely student ;
incessant and patient observation of the plants and ani-
mals about him sharpened his naturally good powers of
observation and of reasoning; until, at length, he ac-
quired a sagacity which enabled him to perceive endless
minute differences among objects which, to the untutored
eye, appeared absolutely alike.

It might have been expected that tMs enlargement of
the powers of the mind and of its store of natural knowl-

ON THE METHOD OF ZADIGL 137

edge could tend to nothing but tih.e increase of a man's
own welfare and tlie good of Ms fellow-men. But Zadig
was fated to experience tie vanity of such expectations.

One day, walking near a little wood, lie saw, hastening that
way, one of the Queen's chief eunuchs, followed by a troop of offi-
cials, who appeared to he in the greatest anxiety, running hither
and thither like men distraught, in search of some lost treasure.

u Young man," cried the eunuch, " have you seen the Queen's
dog?" Zadig answered modestly, u A hitch, I think, not a dog."
"Quite right," replied the eunuch; and Zadig continued, "A very
small spaniel who has lately had puppies ; she limps with the left
foreleg, and has very long ears." " Ah ! you have seen her then,"
said the "breathless eunuch. " No," answered Zadig, " I have not
seen her; and I really was not aware that the Queen possessed a
spaniel."

By an odd coincidence, at the very same time, the handsomest
horse in the King's stables broke away from his groom in the Baby-
lonian plains. The grand huntsman and all his staff were seeking
the horse with as much anxiety as the eunuch and his people the
spaniel ; and the grand huntsman asked Zadig if he had not seen
the King's horse go that way.

"A first-rate galloper, small-hoofed, five feet high; tail three
feet and a half long ; cheek pieces of the bit of twenty-three carat
gold ; shoes silver? " said Zadig.

" Which way did he go ? Where is he ? " cried the grand hunts-
man.

" I have not seen anything of the horse, and I never heard of
Mm before," replied Zadig.

The grand huntsman and the chief eunuch made sure that Zadig
had stolen both the King's horse and the Queen's spaniel, so they
haled him before the High Court of Desterham, which at once con-
demned him to the knout, and transportation for life to Siberia,
But the sentence was hardly pronounced when the lost norse and
spaniel were found. So the judges were under the painful necessity
of reconsidering their decision; but they fined Zadig four hundred
ounces of gold for saying lie had seen that which he had not
seen.

The first thing was to pay the fine ; afterwards Zadig was per-

133 ON THE METHOD OF ZADIGK

mitted to 'open Iris defence to the court, which he did in the follow-
ing terms :

" Stars of justice, abysses of knowledge, mirrors of truth, whose
gravity is as that of lead, whose inflexibility is as that of iron, who
rival the diamond in clearness, and possess no little affinity with
gold ; since I am permitted to address your august assembly, I
swear by Ormuzd that I have never seen the respectable lady dog
of the queen, nor beheld the sacrosanct horse of the King of Kings.

"This is what happened. I was taking a walk towards the
little wood near which I subsequently had the honour to meet the
venerable chief eunuch and the most illustrious grand huntsman. I
noticed the track of an animal in the sand, and it was easy to see
that it was that of a small dog. Long faint streaks upon the little
elevations of sand between the footmarks convinced me that it was
a she dog with pendent dugs, showing that she must have had pup-
pies not many days since. Other scrapings of the sand, which
always lay close to the marks of the forepaws, indicated that she
had very long ears; and, as the imprint of one foot was always
fainter than those of the other three, I judged that the lady dog of
our august Queen was, if I may venture to say so, a little lame.

" With respect to the horse of the King of Kings, permit me to
observe that, wandering through the paths which traverse the
wood, I noticed the marks of horse-shoes. They were all equi-
distant. l Ah ! ' said I, ' this is a famous galloper.' In a narrow
alley, only seven feet wide, the dust upon the trunks of the trees
was a little disturbed at three feet and a half from the middle of the
path. * This horse,' said I to myself, 4 had a tail three feet and a
half long, and, lashing it from one side to the other, he has swept
away the dust.' Branches of the trees met overhead at the height
of five feet, and under them I saw newly fallen leaves; so I knew
that the horse had brushed some of the branches, and was therefore
five feet high. As to his bit, it must have been made of twenty-
three carat gold, for he had rubbed it against a stone, which turned
out to be a touchstone, with the properties of which I am familiar
by experiment. Lastly, by the marks which his shoes left upon
pebbles of another kind, I was led to think that his shoes were of
fine silver."

All the judges admired Zadig's profound and subtle discern-
ment ; and the fame of it reached even the King and th Qaeen.
From the ante-rooms to the presence-chamber, Zadig's name was

OF THE METHOD OF ZADIG-. 139

in everybody's mouth ; and, although many of the magi were of
opinion that he ought to be burnt as a sorcerer, the King com-
manded that the four hundred ounces of gold which he had been
fined should be restored to him. So the officers of the court went
in state with the four hundred ounces ; only they retained three
hundred and ninety-eight for legal expenses, and their servants ex-
pected fees.

Tliose who are interested in learning more of tlie fate-
ful history of Zadig must turn to the original; we are
dealing with Mm only as a philosopher, and this brief
excerpt suffices for the exemplification of the nature of
his conclusions and of the method by which he arrived
at them.

These conclusions may he said to be of the nature of
retrospective prophecies; though it is perhaps a little
hazardous to employ phraseology which perilously sug-
gests a contradiction in terms the word "prophecy"
being so constantly in ordinary use restricted to " fore-
telling." Strictly, however, the term prophecy as much
applies to outspeaking as to foretelling ; and, even in the
restricted sense of " divination," it is obvious that the
essence "of the prophetic operation does not lie in its
backward or forward relation to the course of time, but
in the fact that it is the apprehension of that which lies
out of the sphere of immediate knowledge ; the seeing of
that which to the natural sense of the seer is invisible.

The foreteller asserts that, at some future tMe^ a
properly situated observer will witness certain events;
the clairvoyant declares that, at this present time, certain
things are to be witnessed a thousand miles away; the

140 ON THE METHOD OF ZADIG.

retrospective prophet (would that there were such a word
as " backteller ! ") affirms that so many hours or years
ago, such and such things were to be seen. In all these
cases, it is only the relation to time which alters the
process of divination beyond the limits of possible direct
knowledge remains the same.

No doubt it was their instinctive recognition of the
analogy between Zadig's results and those obtained by
authorised inspiration which inspired the Babylonian
magi with the desire to burn the philosopher. Zadig
admitted that he had never either seen or heard of the
horse of the king or of the spaniel of the queen ; and
yet he ventured to assert in the most positive manner
that animals answering to their description did actually
exist, and ran about the plains of Babylon. If his
method was good for the divination of the course of
events ten hours old, why should it not be good for
those of ten years or ten centuries past ; nay, might it
not extend to ten thousand years and justify the impi-
ous in meddling with the traditions of Cannes and the
fish, and all the sacred foundations of Babylonian cos-
mogony ?

But this was not the worst. There was another con-
sideration which obviously dictated to the more thought-
ful of the magi the propriety of burning Zadig out of
hand. His defence was worse than his offence. It
showed that his mode of divination was fraught with
danger to magxanisnx in general. Swollen with the
pride of human ipason, he had ignored the established

OK THE METHOD OF ZADIG.

canons of magian lore ; and, trusting to what after all
was mere carnal common sense, lie professed to lead
men to a deeper insight into nature than inagian wis-
dom, with all its lofty antagonism to everything com-
mon, had ever reached. What, in fact, lay at the
foundation of all Zadig's arguments but the coarse com-
monplace assumption, upon which every act of our
daily lives is based, that we may conclude from an ef-
fect to the pre-existence of a cause competent to pro-
duce that effect?

The tracts were exactly like those which dogs and
horses leave; therefore they were the effects of such
animals as causes. The marks at the sides of the fore
prints of the dog track were exactly such as would be
produced by long trailing ears ; therefore the dog's long
ears were the causes of these marks and so on. Noth-
ing can be more hopelessly vulgar, more unlike the ma-
jestic development of a system of grandly unintelligible
conclusions from sublimely inconceivable premisses, such
as delights the magian heart. In fact, Zadig's method
was nothing but the method of all mankind. Eetro-
spective prophecies, far more astonishing for their mi-
nute accuracy than those of Zadig, are familiar to those
who have watched the daily life of nomadic people.

From freshly broken twigs, crushed leaves, disturbed
pebbles, and imprints hardly discernible by the untrained
eye, such graduates in the University of Nature will
divine, not only the fact that a party Las passed that
way, but its strength, its composition, the course it took,

142 ON" THE METHOD OF ZADIG-.

and the number of hours or days which have elapsed
since it passed. But they are able to do this because,
like Zadig, they perceive endless minute differences
where untrained eyes discern nothing ; and because the
unconscious logic of common sense compels them to
account for these effects by the causes which they know
to be competent to produce them.

And such mere methodised savagery was to discover
the hidden things of nature better than a priori de-
ductions from the nature of Ormuzd perhaps to give
a history of the past, in which Cannes would be alto-
gether ignored ! Decidedly it were better to burn this
man at once.

If instinct, or an unwonted use of reason, led Moab-
dar's magi to this conclusion two or three thousand
years ago, all that can be said is that subsequent history
has fully justified them. For the rigorous application
of Zadig's logic to the results of accurate and long-con-
tinued observation has founded all those sciences which
have been termed historical or palsetiological, because
they are retrospectively prophetic and strive towards
the reconstruction in human imagination of events which
have vanished and ceased to be.

History, in the ordinary acceptation of the word, is
based upon the interpretation of documentary evidence ;
and documents would have no evidential value unless
historians were justified in their assumption that they
tave come into existence by the operation of causes simi-
lar to those of which documents are, in our present

OX THE METHOD OE ZADIG. 143

experience, tlie effects. If a written history can be pro-
duced otherwise than by human agency, or if the man
who wrote a given document was actuated by other than
ordinary human motives, such documents are of no more
evidential value than so many arabesques.

Archaeology, which takes up the thread of history
beyond the point at which documentary evidence fails
us, could have no existence, except for our well-grounded
confidence that monuments and works of art or artifice,
have never been produced by causes different in kind
from those to which they now owe their origin. And
geology, which traces back the course of history beyond
the limits of archaeology, could tell us nothing except
for the assumption that, millions of years ago, water,
heat, gravitation, friction, animal and vegetable life,
caused effects of the same kind as they do now. Nay,
even physical astronomy, in so far as it takes us back
to the uttermost point of time which palsetiological sci-
ence can reach, is founded upon the same assumption.
If the law of gravitation ever failed to be true, even
to the smallest extent, for that period, the calculations
of the astronomer have no application.

The power of prediction, of prospective prophecy, is
that which is commonly regarded as the great prerogar
tive of physical science. And truly it is a wonderful
fact that one can go into a shop and buy for small price
a book, the "Kautieal Almanac," which will foretell the
exact position to be occupied by one of Jupiter's moons
six months hence; nay more, that, if it were worth

144 OX THE METHOD OF ZADIG-.

while, tlxe Astronomer Eoyal could furnisli us with as
infallible a prediction applicable to 1980 or 2980.

But astronomy is not less remarkable for its power
of retrospective prophecy.

Thales, oldest of Greek philosophers, the dates of
whose birth and death are uncertain, but who flourished
about 600 B. a, is said to have foretold an eclipse of the
sun which took place in his time during a battle between
the Medes and the Lydians. Sir George Airy has writ-
ten a very learned and interesting memoir* in which
he proves that such an eclipse was visible in Lydia on the
afternoon, of the 28th of May in the year 585 B, o.

No one doubts that, on the day and at the hour
mentioned by the Astronomer Eoyal, the people of
Asia Minor saw the face of the sun totally obscured.
But, though we implicitly believe this retrospective
prophecy, it is incapable of verification. In the total
absence of historical records, it is impossible even to
conceive any means of ascertaining directly whether
the eclipse of Thales happened or not. All that can
be said is, that the prospective prophecies of the astron-
omer are always verified; and that, inasmuch as his
retrospective prophecies are the result of following back-
wards, the very same method as that which invariably
leads to verified results, when it is worked forwards,
there is as much reason for placing full confidence in
the one as in the other. Eetrospective prophecy is

* " On the Eclipses of Agathocles, Thales, and Xerxes,"
Transactions^ vol. oxliii.

03T THE METHOD OF ZADIG-.

therefore a legitimate function of astronomical science ;
and if it is legitimate for one science it is legitimate
for all ; tlie fundamental axiom on winch it rests, the
constancy of the order of nature, being the common
foundation of all scientific thought. Indeed, if there
can "be grades in legitimacy, certain branches of science
have the advantage over astronomy, in so far as their
retrospective prophecies are not only susceptible of veri-
fication, but are sometimes strikingly verified.

Such a science exists in that application of the prin-
ciples of biology to the interpretation of the animal
and vegetable remains imbedded in the rocks which com-
pose the surface of the globe, which is called Palaeontology.

At no very distant time, the question whether these
so-called "fossils" were really the remains of animals
and plants was hotly disputed. Yery learned persons
maintained that they were nothing of the kind, but a
sort of concretion, or crystallisation, which had taken
place within the stone in which they are found; and
which simulated the forms of animal and vegetable life,
just as frost on a window-pane imitates vegetation. At
the present day, it would probably be impossible to find
any sane advocate of this opinion ; and the fact is rather
surprising, that among the people from whom the circle^
squarers, perpetual-motioners, flat-earth men and the like,
are recruited, to say nothing of table-turners and spirit-
rappers, somebody has not perceived the easy avenue to
nonsensical notoriety open to any one who will take up
the good old doctrine, that fossils are all "bwus notice.

Off THE METHOD OF ZADIGL

The position would be impregnable, inasmuch as it
is quite impossible to prove the contrary. If a man
choose to maintain that a fossil oyster shell, in spite of
its correspondence, down to every minutest particular,
with that of an oyster fresh taken out of the sea, was
never tenanted by a living oyster, but is a mineral con-
cretion, there is no demonstrating his error. All that
can be done is to show him that, by a parity of reason-
ing, he is bound to admit that a heap of oyster shells
outside a fishmonger's door may also be " sports of na-
ture," and that a mutton bone in a dust-bin may have
had the like origin. And when you cannot prove that
people are wrong, but only that they are absurd, the
best course is to let them alone.

The whole fabric of palaeontology, in fact, falls to
the ground unless we admit the validity of Zadig's great
principle, that like effects imply like causes; and that
the process of reasoning from a shell, or a tooth, or a
bone, to the nature of the animal to which it belonged,
rests absolutely on the assumption that the likeness of
this shell, or tooth, or bone, to that of some animal with
which *we are already acquainted, is such that we are
justified in inferring a corresponding degree of likeness
in the rest of the two organisms. It is on this very
simple principle, and not upon imaginary laws of physio-
logical correlation, about which, in most cases, we know
nothing whatever, that the so-called restorations of the
palaeontologist are based.

Abundant illustrations of this truth will occur to

ON THE METHOD OF ZADIGL

every one who is familar with palaeontology ; none is
more suitable than the case of the so-called JSelemnites*
In the early days of the study of f ossils, this name was
given to certain elongated stony bodies, ending at one
extremity in a conical point, and truncated at the other,
which were commonly reputed to be thunderbolts, and
as such to have descended from the sky. They are
common enough in some parts of England ; and, in tlie
condition in which they are ordinarily found, it might
be difficult to give satisfactory reasons for denying them
to be merely mineral bodies.

They appear, in fact, to consist of nothing but con-
centric layers of carbonate of lime, disposed in sub-
crystalline fibres, or prisms, perpendicular to the layers.
Among a great number of specimens of these Belem-
nites, however, it was soon observed that some showed
a conical cavity at the blunt end; and, in still better
preserved specimens, this cavity appeared to be divided
into chambers by delicate saucer-shaped partitions, situ-
ated at regular intervals one above the other. 'Now
there is no mineral body which presents any structure
comparable to this, and the conclusion suggested itself
that the Belemnites must be the effects of causes other
than those which are at work in inorganic nature. On
close examination, the saucer -shaped partitions were
proved to be all perforated at one point, and the per-
forations being situated exactly in the same line, the
chambers were seen to be traversed by a canal, or si*
phunde, which thus connected the smallest or apical

148 THE METHOD. OF ZADIGL

chamber with the largest. There is nothing like this
in the vegetable world; but an exactly corresponding
structure is met with in the shells of two kinds of exist-
ing animals, the pearly Nautilus and the Spirula, and
only in them. These animals belong to the same di-
vision the Cephalopoda as the cuttle-fish, the squid, and
the octopus. But they are the only existing members
of the group which possess chambered, siphunculated
shells ; and it is utterly impossible to trace any physio-
logical connection between the very peculiar structural
characters of a cephalopod and the presence of a cham-
bered shell. In fact, the squid has, instead of any such
shell, a horny "pen," the cuttle-fish has the so-called
"cuttle -bone," and the octopus has no shell, or, at
most, a mere rudiment of one.

Nevertheless, seeing that there is nothing in nature
at all like the chambered shell of the Belemnite, except
the shells of the Nautili^s and of the Spirula, it was
legitimate to prophesy that the animal from which the
fossil proceeded must have belonged to the group of the
Cephalopoda. Nautilus and Spirula are both very rare
animals, but the progress of investigation brought to
light the singular fact, that, though each has the charac-
teristic cephalopodous organisation, it is very different
from the other. The shell of Nautilus is external, that
of Spirilla internal; Nautilus has four gills, Spwula
two ; Nautilus has multitudinous tentacles, Spvrula has
only ten arms beset with horny rimmed suckers ; Spirula,
like the squids and cuttle-fishes, which it closely re-

ON THE METHOD OF ZADIGL 149

sembles, has a bag of ink which, it squirts out to cover
its retreat when alarmed ; Nautilus has none.

]STo amount of physiological reasoning could enable
any one to say whether the animal which fabricated the
Belemnite was more like Nautilus, or more like Spirula.
But the accidental discovery of Belemnites in due con-
nection with black elongated masses which were cer-
tainly fossilised ink-bags, inasmuch as the ink could be
ground up and used for painting as well as if it were
recent sepia, settled the question; and it became per-
fectly safe to prophesy that the creature which fabricated
the Belemnite was a two-gilled cephalopod with suckers
on its arms, and with all the other essential features
of our living squids, cuttle-fishes, and SpirulcB. The
palaeontologist was, by this time, able to speak as confi-
dently about the animal of the Belemnite, as Zadig
was respecting the queen's spaniel. He could give a
very fair description of its external appearance, and even
enter pretty fully into the details of its internal organi-
sation, and yet could declare that neither he, nor any
one else, had ever seen one. And as the queen's spaniel
was found, so happily has the animal of the Belemnite ;
a few exceptionally preserved specimens having been
discovered, which completely verify the retrospective
prophecy of those who interpreted the facts of the case
by due .application of the method of Zadig.

These Belemnites flourished in prodigious abundance
in the seas of the mesozoic or secondary age of the
world's geological history; but no trace of them has

150 ON THE METHOD OF ZADIGk

been found in any of the tertiary deposits, and they
appear to have died out towards the close of the mesozoic
epoch. The method of Zadig, therefore, applies in full
force to the events of a period which is immeasurably
remote, which long preceded the origin of the most
conspicuous mountain masses of the present world, and
the deposition, at the bottom of the ocean, of the rocks
which form the greater part of the soil of our present
continents. The Euphrates itself, at the mouth of which
Cannes landed, is a thing of yesterday compared with a
Belemnite; and even the liberal chronology of Magian
cosmogony fixes the beginning of the world only at a
time when other applications of Zadig's method afford
convincing evidence that, could we have been there to
see, things would have looked very much as they do
now. Truly the magi were wise in their generation;
they foresaw rightly that this pestilent application of
the principles of common sense, inaugurated by Zadig,
would be their ruin.

But it may be said that the method of Zadig, which
is simple reasoning from analogy, does not account for
the most striking feats of modern palaeontology the re-
construction of entire animals from a tooth or perhaps
a fragment of a bone ; and it may be justly urged that
Ouvier, the great master of this kind of investigation,
gave a very different account of. the process which
yielded such remarkable results.

Cuvier is not the first man of ability who has failed
to make his own mental processes clear to himself, and

OiST THE METHOD OF ZADIG. 151

he will not be the last. The matter can be easily tested.
Search the eight volumes of the "Uecherches sur les
Ossemens f ossiles " from cover to cover, and nothing but
the application of the method of Zadig -will be found
in the arguments by which a fragment of a skeleton is
made to reveal the characters of the animal to which it
belonged.

There is one well-known case which may represent
all. It is an excellent illustration of Ouvier's sagacity,
and he evidently takes some pride in telling his story
about it. A split slab of stone arrived from the quarries
of Hontmartre, the two halves of which contained the
greater part of the skeleton of a small animal. On care-
ful examinations of the characters of the teeth and of the
lower jaw, which happened to be exposed, Ouvier assured
himself that they presented such a very close resemblance
to the corresponding parts in the living opossums that he
at once assigned the fossil to that genus.

Now the opossums are unlike most mammals in that
they possess two bones attached to the fore part of the
pelvis, which are commonly called "marsupial bones."
The name is a misnomer, originally conferred because it
was thought that these bones have something to do with
the support of the pouch, or marsupium, with which
some, but not all, of the opossums are provided. As a
matter of fact, they have nothing to do with the support
of the pouch, and they exist as much in those opossums
which have no pouches as in those which possess them.
In truth, no one knows what the use of these bones may

152 ON THE METHOD OF ZADIG.

be, nor has any valid theory of their physiological import
yet been suggested. And if we have no knowledge of
the physiological importance of the bones themselves, it
is obviously absurd to pretend that we are able to give
physiological reasons why the presence of these bones is
associated with certain peculiarities of the teeth and of
the jaws. If any one knows why four molar teeth and
an inflected angle of the jaw are very generally found
along with marsupial bones, he has not yet communicated
that knowledge to the world.

If, however, Zadig was right in concluding from the
likeness of the hoof -prints which he observed to a horse's
that the creature which made them had a tail like that of
a horse, Ouvier, seeing that the teeth and jaw of his fossil
were just like those of an opossum, had the same right to
conclude that the pelvis would also be like an opossum's ;
and so strong was his conviction that this retrospective
prophecy, about an animal which he had never seen
before, and which had been dead and buried for millions
of years, would be verified, that he went to work upon
the slab which contained the pelvis in confident expecta-
tion of finding and laying bare the "marsupial bones,"
to the satisfaction of some persons whom he had invited
to witness their disinterment. As he says : " Oette op<~
ration se fit en presence de quelques personnes , qui j'en
avais annonc6 d'avance le r&ultat, dans Pintentionde-lenr
prouver par le fait la justice de nos theories zoologiques ;
puisque le vrai cachet d'une th^orie est sans contredit la
qu'elle donne de pr6voir les ph6nom&aes."

ON THE METHOD OF ZADIG. 153

In the " Osseinens f ossiles " Olivier leaves his paper
just as it first appeared in tlie " Annales du Museum/'
as " a curious monument of tlie force of zoological laws
and of tlie use which may be made of them."

Zoological laws truly, but not physiological laws. If
one sees a live dog's head, it is extremely probable that
a dog's tail is not far off, though nobody can say why
that sort of head and that sort of tail go together ; what
physiological connection there is between the two. So,
in the case of the Montmartre fossil, Cuvier, finding a
thorough opossum's head, concluded that the pelvis also
would be like an opossum's. But, most assuredly, the
most advanced physiologist of the present day could
throw no light on the question why these are associated,
nor could pretend to affirm that the existence of the one
is necessarily connected with that of the other. In fact,
had it so happened that the pelvis of the fossil had been
originally exposed, while the head lay hidden, the pres-
ence of the " marsupial "bones," however like they might
have been to an opossum's, would by no means have
warranted the prediction that the skull would turn out
to be that of the opossum. It might just as well have
been like that of some other Marsupial; or even like
that of the totally different group of Monotremes, of
which the only living representatives are the Echidna
and the Ornithorhynohus.

For all practical purposes, however, the empirical
laws of co-ordination of structures, which are embodied
in the generalisations of morphology, may be confidently

154 ON THE METHOD OF ZADIGL

trusted, if employed with, due caution, to lead to a just
interpretation of fossil remains ; or, in other words, we
may look for the verification of the retrospective prophe-
cies which are based upon them.

And if this be the case, the late advances which have
been made in pateontological discovery open out a new
field for such prophecies. Tor it has been ascertained
with respect to many groups of animals, that, as we trace
them back in time, their ancestors gradually cease to ex-
hibit those special modifications which at present charac-
terise the type, and more nearly embody the general plan
of the group to which they belong.

Thus, in the well-known case of the horse, the toes
which are suppressed in the living horse are found to be
more and more complete in the older members of the
group, until, at the bottom of the Tertiary series of
America, we find an equine animal which has four toes
in front and three behind. No remains of the horse
tribe are at present known from any Mesozoic deposit.
Yet who can doubt that, whenever a sufficiently exten-
sive series of lacustrine and fiuviatile beds of that age
becomes known, the lineage which has been traced thus
far will be continued by equine quadrupeds with an in-
creasing number of digits, until the horse type merges in
the five-toed form towards which these gradations point ?
But the argument which holds good for the horse,
holds good, not only for all mammals, but for the whole
animal world. And as the study of the pedigrees, or
lines of evolution, to which, at present, we have access.

OE" THE METHOD OF ZADIGL 155

brings to light, as it assuredly will do, the laws of that
process, we shall be able to reason from the facts with
which the geological record furnishes us to those which
have hitherto remained, and many of which, perhaps,
may for ever remain, hidden. The same method of
reasoning which enables us, when furnished with a frag-
ment of an extinct animal, to prophesy the character
which, the whole organism exhibited, will, sooner or
later, enable us, when we know a few of the later terms
of a genealogical series, to predict the nature of the
earlier terms.

In no very distant future, the method of Zadig, ap-
plied to a greater body of facts than the present genera-
tion is fortunate enough to handle, will enable the biolo-
gist to reconstruct the scheme of life from its beginning,
and to speak as confidently of the character of long ex-
tinct living beings, no trace of which has been preserved,
as Zadig did of the queen's spaniel and the king's
horse. Let us hope that they may be better rewarded
for their toil and their sagacity than was the Babylonian
philosopher ; for perhaps, by that time, the Magi also
may be reckoned among the members of a forgotten
Eauna, extinguished in the struggle for existence against
their great rival, common sense.

YII.

ON THE BOKDEK TEEEITOET BETWEEN
THE ANIMAL AND THE VEGETABLE
KINGDOMS.

IN the whole history of science there is nothing more
remarkable than the rapidity of the growth of "biological
knowledge within the last half-century, and the extent
of the modification which has thereby been effected in
some of the fundamental conceptions of the naturalist,

In the second edition of the "Begne Animal/' pub-
lished in 1828, Cuvier devotes a special section to the
" Division of Organised Beings into Animals and Yegc-
tables," in which the question is treated with that com-
prehensiveness of knowledge and clear critical judgment
which characterise his writings, and justify us in regard-
ing them as representative expressions of the most exten-
sive, if not the prof oundest, knowledge of his time. He
tells us that living beings have been subdivided from
the earliest times into animated beings, which possess
sense and motion, and inanimated beings, which are
devoid of these functions, and simply vegetate.

Although the roots of plants direct themselves
towards moisture, and their leaves towards air and light,

ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

although the parts of some plants exhibit oscillating
movements without any perceptible cause, and the leaves
of others retract when touched, yet none of these
movements justify the ascription to plants of perception
or of will. From the mobility of animals, Cuvier, with
his characteristic partiality for teleological reasoning, de-
duces the necessity of the existence in them of an aliment-
ary cavity, or reservoir of food, whence their nutrition
may be drawn by the vessels, which are a sort of internal
roots ; and, in the presence of this alimentary cavity, he
naturally sees the primary and the most important dis-
tinction between animals and plants.

Following out his teleological argument, Cuvier re-
marks that the organisation of this cavity and its appur-
tenances must needs vary according to the nature of the
aliment, and the operations which it has to undergo,
before it can be converted into substances fitted for
absorption ; while the atmosphere and the earth supply
plants with juices ready prepared, and which can be
absorbed immediately. As the animal body required
to be independent of heat and of the atmosphere, there
were no means by which the motion of its fluids could
be produced by internal causes. Hence arose the second
great distinctive character of animals, or the circulatory
system, which is less important than the digestive, since
it was unnecessary, and therefore is absent, in the more
simple animals.

Animals further needed muscles for locomotion and
nerves for sensibility. Hence, says Cuvier, it was neces-

158 AIMALS AND PLANTS.

sary that the chemical composition of the animal body
should be more complicated than that of the plant ; and
it is so, inasmuch as an additional substance, nitrogen,
enters into it as an essential element ; while, in plants,
nitrogen is only accidentally joined with the three other
fundamental constituents of organic beings carbon, hy-
drogen, and oxygen. Indeed, he afterwards affirms that
nitrogen is peculiar to animals ; and herein he places
the third distinction between the animal and the plant.
The soil and the atmosphere supply plants with water,
composed of hydrogen and oxygen; air, consisting of
nitrogen and oxygen; and carbonic acid, containing
carbon and oxygen. They retain the hydrogen and the
carbon, exhale the superfluous oxygen, and absorb little
or no nitrogen. The essential character of vegetable life
is the exhalation of oxygen, which is effected through
the agency of light. Animals, on the contrary, derive
their nourishment either directly or indirectly from
plants. They get rid of the superfluous hydrogen and
carbon, and accumulate nitrogen. The relations of plants
and animals to the atmosphere are therefore inverse.
The plant withdraws water and carbonic acid from the
atmosphere, the animal contributes both to it. Respira-
tion that is, the absorption of oxygen and the exhala-
tion of carbonic acid is the specially animal function
of animals, and constitutes their fourth distinctive char-
acter.

Thus wrote Cuvier in 1828. But, in the fourth and
fifth decades of this century, the greatest and most rapid

ANIMALS AM) PLANTS. 159

revolution wMcli biological science lias ever undergone
was effected by the application of the modern micro-
scope to the investigation, of organic structure ; by the
introduction of exact and easily manageable methods
of conducting the chemical analysis of organic com-
pounds ; and finally, by the employment of instruments
of precision for the measurement of the physical forces
which are at work in the living economy.

That the semi-fluid contents (which we now term
protoplasm) of the cells of certain plants, such as the
Charce, are in constant and regular motion, was made
out by Bonaventura Corti a century ago ; but the fact,
important as it was, fell into oblivion, and had to be re-
discovered by Treviranus in 1807. Robert Brown noted
the more complex motions of the protoplasm in the cells
of Trcidescantia in 1831 ; and now such movements of
the living substance of plants are well known to be some
of the most widely-prevalent phenomena of vegetable life.

Agardh, and other of the botanists of Cuvier's gen-
eration, who occupied themselves with the lower plants,
had observed that, under particular circumstances, the
contents of the cells of certain water-weeds were set
free, and moved about with considerable velocity, and
with all the appearances of spontaneity, as locomotive
bodies, which, from their similarity to animals of sim-
ple organisation, were called " zoospores." Even as late
as 184:5, however, a botanist of Sehleiden's eminence
dealt very sceptically with these statements; and his
scepticism was the more justified, since Ehrenberg, in

160 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

Ms elaborate and comprehensive work on the Infusoria,
had declared the greater number of what are now rec-
ognised as locomotive plants to be animals.

At the present day, innumerable plants and free
plant cells are known to pass the whole or part of their
lives in an actively locomotive condition, in no wise
distinguishable from that of one of the simpler animals ;
and ; while in this condition, their movements are, to all
appearance, as spontaneous as much the product of
volition as those of such animals.

Hence the teleological argument for Cuvier's first
diagnostic character the presence in animals of an ali-
mentary cavity, or internal pocket, in which they can
carry about their nutriment has broken down, so far,
at least, as his mode of stating it goes. And, with the
advance of microscopic anatomy, the universality of the
fact itself among animals has ceased to be predicable.
Many animals of even complex structure, which live
parasitically within others, are wholly devoid of an ali-
mentary cavity. Their food is provided for them, not
only ready cooked, but ready digested, and the alimentary
canal, become superfluous, has disappeared. Again, the
males of most Eotifers have no digestive apparatus ; as
a German naturalist has remarked, they devote them-
selves entirely to the " Minnedienst," and are to be reck-
oned among the few realisations of the Byronic ideal of
a lover. Finally, amidst the lowest forms of animal
life, the speck of gelatinous protoplasm, which consti-
tutes the whole body, has no permanent digestive cav-

ANIMALS AM) PLANTS. 161

ity or mouth, but takes in its food anywhere ; and di-
gests, so to speak, all over its body.

But although Cuvier's leading diagnosis of the ani-
inal from the plant will not stand a strict test, it remains
one of the most constant of the distinctive characters
of animals. And, if we substitute for the possession of
an alimentary cavity, the power of taking solid nutri-
ment into the body and there digesting it, the definition
so changed will cover all animals, except certain para-
sites, and the few and exceptional cases of non-parasitic
animals which do not feed at all. On the other hand,
the definition thus amended will exclude all ordinary
vegetable organisms.

Cuvier himself practically gives up his second dis-
tinctive mark when he admits that it is wanting in the
simpler animals.

The third distinction is based on a completely er-
roneous conception of the chemical differences and re-
semblances between the constituents of animal and vege-
table organisms, for which Cuvier is not responsible, as
it was current among contemporary chemists. It is
now established that nitrogen is as essential a constitu-
ent of vegetable as of animal living matter; and that
the latter is, chemically speaking, just as complicated as
the former. Starchy substances, cellulose and sugar,
once supposed to be exclusively confined to plants, are
now known to be regular and normal products of ani-
mals. Amylaceous and saccharine substances are largely
manufactured, even by the highest animals ; cellulose is

162 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

widespread as a constituent of the skeletons of the lower
animals ; and it is probable that amyloid substances are
universally present in the animal organism, though not
in the precise form of starch.

Moreover, although it remains true that there is an
inverse relation between the green plant in sunshine
and the animal, in so far as, under these circumstances,
the green plant decomposes carbonic acid and exhales
oxygen, while the animal absorbs oxygen and exhales
carbonic acid ; yet, the exact investigations of the mod-
ern chemical investigators of the physiological processes
of plants have clearly demonstrated the fallacy of at-
tempting to draw any general distinction between ani-
mals and vegetables on this ground. In fact, the dif-
ference vanishes with the sunshine, even in the case of
the green plant; which, in the dark, absorbs oxygen
and gives out carbonic acid like any animal.* On the
other hand, those plants, such as the fungi, which con-
tain no chlorophyll and are not green, are always, so far
as respiration is concerned, in the exact position of ani-
mals. They absorb oxygen and give out carbonic acid.

Thus, by the progress of knowledge, Ouvier's fourth
distinction between the animal and the plant has been
as completely invalidated as the third and second ; and

* There is every reason to "believe that living plants, like living animals,
always respire, and, in respiring, absorb oxygen and give off carbonic acid ;
but, tliat in green plants exposed to daylight or to the electric light, the
quantity of oxygen evolved in, consequence of the decomposition of carbonic
acid by a special apparatus which green plants possess exceeds that ab-
sorbed in the concurrent respiratory process.

ANIMALS AED PLANTS. 163

even the first can be retained only in a modified form
and subject to exceptions.

But has the advance of biology simply tended to break
down old distinctions, withont establishing new ones ?

With a qualification, to be considered presently, the
answer to this question is undoubtedly in the affirma-
tive. The famous researches of Schwann and Schlei-
den in 1837 and the following years, founded the mod-
ern science of histology, or that branch of anatomy
which deals with the ultimate visible structure of or-
ganisms, as revealed by the microscope ; and, from that
day to this, the rapid improvement of methods of inves-
tigation, and the energy of a host of accurate observers,
have given greater and greater breadth and firmness to
Schwann's great generalisation, that a fundamental unity
of structure obtains in animals and plants; and that,
however diverse may be the fabrics, or tissues, of which
their bodies are composed, all these varied structures
result from the metamorphosis of morphological units
(termed cells, in a more general sense than that in
which the word "cells" was at first employed), which
are not only similar in animals and in plants respective-
ly, but present a close resemblance, when those of ani-
mals and those of plants are compared together.

The contractility which is the fundamental condi-
tion of locomotion, has not only been discovered to
exist far more widely among plants than was formerly
imagined; but, in plants, the act of contraction has
been found to be accompanied, as Dr. Burden Sander-

ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

son's interesting investigations have shown, by a dis-
turbance of the electrical state of the contractile sub-
stance, comparable to that which was found by Da Bois
Eeymond to be a concomitant of the activity of ordi-
nary muscle in animals.

A^ain, I know of no test by which the reaction of
the leaves of the Sundew and of other plants to stimuli,
so fully and carefully studied by Mr. Darwin, can be
distinguished from those acts of contraction following
upon stimuli, which are called " reflex " in animals.

On each lobe of the bilobed leaf of Venus's fly trap
(Dioncea muscipulct) are three delicate filaments which
stand out at right angle from the surface of the leaf.
Touch one of them with the end of a fine human hair
and the lobes of the leaf instantly close together* in
virtue of an act of contraction of part of their sub-
stance, just as the body of a snail contracts into its shell
when one of its "horns" is irritated.

The reflex action of the snail is the result of the
presence of a nervous system in the animal. A molec-
ular change takes place in the nerve of the tentacle,
is propagated to the muscles by which the body is re-
tracted, and causing them to contract, the act of retrac-
tion is brought about. Of course the similarity of the
acts does not necessarily involve the conclusion that the
mechanism by which they are effected is the same ; "but
it suggests a suspicion of their identity which needs care-
ful testing.

* Darwin, " Insectivorous Plants," p. 289.

AOTMALS AND PLANTS. 165

The results of recent inquiries into the structure of
the nervous system of animals converge towards the con-
clusion that the nerve fibres, which we have hitherto
regarded as ultimate elements of nervous tissue, are not
such, but are simply the visible aggregations of vastly
more attenuated filaments, the diameter of which dwin-
dles down to the limits of our present microscopic vision,
greatly as these have been extended by modern improve-
ments of the microscope ; and that a nerve is, in its es-
sence, nothing but a linear tract of specially modified
protoplasm between two points of an organism one of
which is able to affect the other by means of the com-
munication so established. Hence, it is conceivable that
even the simplest living being may possess a nervous sys-
tem. And the question whether pknts are provided with
a nervous system or not, thus acquires a new aspect, and
presents the histologist and physiologist with a problem
of extreme difficulty, which must be attacked from a
new point of view and by the aid of methods which
have yet to be invented.

Thus it must be admitted that plants may be con-
tractile and locomotive; that, while locomotive, their
movements may have as much appearance of spontane-
ity as those of the lowest animals; and that many ex-
hibit actions, comparable to those which are brought
about by the agency of a nervous system in animals.
And it must be allowed to be possible that further re-
search may reveal the existence of something compara-
ble to a nervous system in plants. So that I know not

166 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

where we can hope to find any absolute distinction be-
tween animals and plants, unless we return to their mode
of nutrition, and inquire whether certain differences of
a more occult character than those imagined to exist by
Cuvier, and which certainly hold good for the vast ma-
jority of animals and plants, are of universal application.

A bean may be supplied with water in which salts
of ammonia and certain other mineral salts are dissolved
in due proportion; with atmospheric air containing its
ordinary minute dose of carbonic acid; and with noth-
ing else but sunlight and heat. Under these circum-
stances, unnatural as they are, with proper management,
the bean will thrust forth its radicle and its plumule;
the former will grow down into roots, the latter grow up
into the stem and leaves of a vigorous bean plant ; and
this plant will, in due time, flower and produce its crop
of beans, just as if it were grown in the garden or in the
field.

The weight of the nitrogenous protein compounds,
of the oily, starchy, saccharine and woody substances
contained in the full-grown plant and its seeds, will be
vastly greater than the weight of the same substances
contained in the bean from which it sprang. But noth-
ing lias been supplied to the bean save water, carbonic
acid, ammonia, potash, lime, iron, and the like, in com-
bination with phosphoric, sulphuric, and other acids.
Neither protein, nor fat, nor starch, nor sugar,, nor any
substance in the slightest degree resembling them, has
formed part of the food of the bean. But the weights

ANIMALS AOT) PLANTS.

of the carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, phosphorus,
sulphur, and other elementary bodies contained in the
bean-plant, and in the seeds which it produces, are ex-
actly equivalent to the weights of the same elements
which have disappeared from the materials supplied to
the bean during its growth. "Whence it follows that the
bean has taken in only the raw materials of its fabric,
and has manufactured them into bean stuffs.

The bean has been able to perform this great chem-
- ical feat by the help of its green colouring matter, or
chlorophyll ; for it is only the green parts of the plant
which, under the influence of sunlight, have the mar-
vellous power of decomposing carbonic acid, setting free
the oxygen and laying hold of the carbon which it con-
tains. In fact, the bean obtains two of the absolutely
indispensable elements of its substance from two distinct
sources; the watery solution, in which its roots are
plunged, contains nitrogen but no carbon; the air, to
which the leaves are exposed, contains carbon, but its
nitrogen is in the state of a free gas, in which condition
the bean can make no use of it ; * and the chlorophyll f
is the apparatus by which the carbon is extracted from
the atmospheric carbonic acid the leaves being the
chief laboratories in which this operation is effected.

* I purposely assume that the air with which the bean is supplied in
the case stated contains no ammoniacal salts.

f The recent researches of Pringsheim have raised a host of questions as
to the exact share taken by chlorophyll in the chemical operations which
are effected by the green parts of plants. It may be that the chlorophyll
is only a constant concomitant of the actual deoxidising apparatus.
S

168 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

The great majority of conspicuous plants are, as
everybody knows, green ; and this arises from the abun-
dance of their chlorophyll. The few which contain no
chlorophyll and are colourless, are unable to extract the
carbon which they require from atmospheric carbonic
acid, and lead a parasitic existence upon other plants;
but it by no means follows, often as the statement has
been repeated, that the manufacturing power of plants
depends on their chlorophyll, and its interaction with the
rays of the sun. On the contrary, it is easily demon-
strated, as Pasteur first proved, that the lowest fungi,
devoid of chlorophyll, or of any substitute for it, as they
are, nevertheless possess the characteristic manufacturing
powers of plants in a very high degree. Only it is
necessary that they should be supplied with a different
kind of raw material; as they cannot extract carbon
from carbonic acid, they must be furnished with some-
thing else that contains carbon. Tartaric acid is such
a substance; and if a single spore of the commonest
and most troublesome of moulds Pemcillium be sown
in a saucerf til of water, in which tartrate of ammonia,
with a small percentage of phosphates and sulphates is
contained, and kept warm, whether in the dark or ex-
posed to light, it will, in a short time, give rise to a thick
crust of mould, which contains many million times the
weight of the original spore, in protein compounds and
cellulose. Thus we have a very wide basis of fact for
the generalisation that plants are essentially character-
ised by their manufacturing capacity by their power

AETHALS AND PLAFTS. 169

of working up mere mineral matters into complex or-
ganic compounds.

Contrariwise, there is a no less wide foundation
for the generalisation that animals, as Cuvier puts it,
depend directly or indirectly upon plants for the ma-
terials of their bodies; that is, either they are her-
bivorous, or they eat other animals which are herbi-
vorous.

But for what constituents of their bodies are ani-
mals thus dependent upon plants? Certainly not for
their horny matter; nor for chondrin, the proximate
chemical element of cartilage ; nor for gelatine ; nor for
syntonin, the constituent of muscle ; nor for their ner-
vous or biliary substances; nor for their amyloid matters;
nor, necessarily, for their fats,

It can be experimentally demonstrated that animals
can make these for themselves. But that which they
cannot make, but must, in all known cases, obtain di-
rectly or indirectly from plants, is the peculiar nitro-
genous matter, protein. Thus the plant is the ideal
proletaire of the living world, the worker who pro-
duces; the animal, the ideal aristocrat, who mostly oc-
cupies himself in consuming, after the manner of that
noble representative of the line of Zahdarm, whose epi-
taph is written in Sartor &esa/rtv,s.

Here is our last hope of finding a sharp line of de-
marcation between plants and animals; for, as I have
already hinted, there is a border territory between the
two kingdoms, a sort of -no-man's-land, the inhabitants

170 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

of which certainly cannot be discriminated and brought
to their proper allegiance in any other way.

Some months ago, Professor Tyndall asked me to
examine a drop of infusion of hay, placed under an ex-
cellent and powerful microscope, and to tell him what
I thought some organisms visible in it were. I looked
and observed, in the first place, multitudes of Bacteria
moving about with their ordinary intermittent spasmodic
wriggles. As to the -vegetable nature of these there is
now no doubt. Not only does the close resemblance of
the Bacteria to unquestionable plants, such as the Os-
cillatoricB, and lower forms of Fungi, justify this con-
clusion, but the manufacturing test settles the question
at once. It is only needful to add a minute drop of
fluid containing Bacteria, to water in which tartrate,
phosphate, and sulphate of ammonia are dissolved ; and,
in a very short space of time, the clear fluid becomes
milky by reason of their prodigious multiplication,
which, of course, implies the manufacture of living
Bacterium-stuff out of these merely saline matters.

But other active organisms, very much larger than
the Bacteria, attaining in fact the comparatively gigantic
dimensions of -g-^-g- of an inch or more, incessantly crossed
the field of view. Each of these had a body shaped like
a pear, the small end being slightly incurved and pro-
duced into a long curved filament, or cilium, of extreme
tenuity. Behind this, from the concave side of the in-
curvation, proceeded another long cilium, so delicate as
to be discernible only by the use of the highest powers

AOT3ALS AKD PLANTS.

and careful management of the light. In the centre of
the pear-shaped body a clear round space could occa-
sionally be discerned, but not always ; and careful watch-
ing showed that this clear vacuity appeared gradually,
and then shut up and disappeared suddenly, at regular
intervals. Such a structure is of common occurrence
among the lowest plants and animals, and is known as
a contractile va&uole.

The little creature thus described sometimes propelled
itself with great activity, with a curious rolling motion,
by the lashing of the front cilium, while the second
cilium trailed behind; sometimes it anchored itself by
the hinder cilium and was spun round by the working
of the other, its motions resembling those of an anchor
buoy in a. heavy sea. Sometimes, when two were in full
career towards one "another, each would appear dexter-
ously to get out of the other's way ; sometimes a crowd
would assemble and jostle one another, with as much
semblance of individual effort as a spectator on the
Grands Mulets might observe with a telescope among the
specks representing men in the valley of Chamounix.

The spectacle, though always surprising, was not new
to me. So my reply to the question put to me was,
that these organisms were what biologists call Jlfonads,
and though they might be animals, it was also possible
that they might, like the JBaeteria, be plants. My friend
received my verdict with an expression which showed a
sad want of respect for authority. He would as soon
believe that a sheep was a plant. Naturally piqued by

172 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

this want of faith, I have thought a good deal over the
matter; and as I still rest in the lame conclusion I
originally expressed, and must even now confess that I
cannot certainly say whether this creature is an animal
or a plant, I think it may be well to state the grounds
of my hesitation at length. But, in the first place, in
order that I may conveniently distinguish this " Monad "
from the multitude of other things which go by the
same designation, I must give it a name of its own. I
think- (though, for .reasons which need not be stated at
present, I am not quite sure) that it is identical with the
species MOMS lens, as defined by the eminent French
microscopist Dujardin, though his magnifying power was
probably insufficient to enable him to see that it is curi-
ously like a much larger form of monad which he has
named Hetwomita. I shall, therefore, call it not Monas,
but Heteromita lens.

I have been unable to devote to my Heteromita the
prolonged study needful to work out its whole history,
which would involve weeks, or it may be months, of
unremitting attention. But I the less regret this cir-
cumstance, as some remarkable observations recently
published by Messrs. Dallinger and Drysdale* on certain
Monads, relate, in part, to a form so similar to my Set-
eromita lens> that the history of the one may be used to
illustrate that of the other. These most patient and

* " Researches in the Life-history of a Cercomonad ; a Lesson in Bio-
genesis ; " and " Further [Researches in the Life-history of the Monads."-
" Monthly Microscopical Journal," 1873,

ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

painstaking observers, who employed tlie highest attain-
able powers of the microscope and, relieving one another,
kept watch day and night over the same individual mo-
nads, have been enabled to trace out the whole history
of their Heteromita; which they found in infusions of
the heads of fishes of the Cod tribe.

Of the four monads described and figured by these
investigators, one, as I have said, very closely resembles
Heteromita lens in every particular, except that it has
a separately distinguishable central particle or " nucleus,"
which is not certainly to be made out in Heteromita,
lens ; and that nothing is said by Messrs. Dallinger and
Drysdale of the existence of a contractile vacuole in this
monad, though they describe it in another.

Their Heteromita^ however, multiplied rapidly by fis-
sion. Sometimes a transverse constriction appeared ; the
hinder half developed a new cilium, and the hinder
cilium gradually split from its base to its free end, until
it was divided into two; a process which, considering
the fact that this fine filament cannot be much more
than ! o <fo o o of an inch in diameter, is wonderful enough.
The constriction of the body extended Inwards until the
two portions were united by a narrow isthmus ; finally,
they separated and each swam away by itself, a com-
plete Heteromita^ provided with its two cilia. Some-
times the constriction took a longitudinal direction, with
the same ultimate result. In each case the process occu-
pied not more than six or seven minutes. At this rate,
a single Heteromita would give rise to a thousand like

174: ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

itself in the course of an hour, to about a million in
two hours, and to a number greater than the generally
assumed number of human beings now living in the
world in three hours; or, if we give each Heteromita
an hour's enjoyment of individual existence, the same
result will be obtained in about a day. The apparent
suddenness of the appearance of multitudes of such or-
ganisms as these, in any nutritive fluid to which one
obtains access, is thus easily explained.

During these processes of multiplication by fission,
the Heteromita remains active; but sometimes another
mode of fission occurs. The body becomes rounded and
quiescent, or nearly so ; and, while in this resting state,
divides into two portions, each of which is rapidly con-
verted into an active Heteromita.

A still more remarkable phenomenon is that kind of
multiplication which is preceded by the union of two
monads, by a process which is termed conjugation. Two
active JSeteromitce become applied to one another, and
then slowly and gradually coalesce into one body. The
two nuclei run into one; and the mass resulting from
the conjugation of the two JETeteromitce, thus fused to-
gether, has a triangular form. The two pairs of cilia are
to be seen, for some time, at two of the angles, which
answer to the small ends of the conjoined monads ; but
they ultimately vanish, and the twin organism, in which
all visible traces of organisation, have disappeared, falls
into a state of rest. Sudden wave-like movements of its
substance next occur ; and, in a short time, the aDices

ANIMALS A!s T D PLAOTS. 175

of the triangular mass burst, and give exit to a dense
yellowish, glairy fluid, filled with minute granules. This
process, which, it will be observed, involves the actual
confluence and mixture of the substance of two distinct
organisms, is effected in the space of about two hours.

The authors whom I quote say that they "cannot
express" the excessive minuteness of the granules in
question, and they estimate their diameter at less than
FTflVffTT ^ an i nc h. Under the highest powers of the
microscope at present applicable such specks are hardly
discernible. Nevertheless, particles of this size are mas-
sive when compared to physical molecules ; whence there
is no reason to doubt that each, small as it is, may have a
molecular structure sufficiently complex to give rise to
the phenomena of life. And, as a matter of fact, by
patient watching of the place at which these infinitesimal
living particles were discharged, our observers assured
themselves of their growth and development into new
monads. These, in about four hours from their being
set free, had attained a sixth of the length of the parent,
with the characteristic cilia, though at first they were
quite motionless; and, in four hours more, they had
attained the dimensions and exhibited all the activity of
the adult. These inconceivably minute particles are
therefore the germs of the Heteromita; and from the
dimensions of these germs it is easily shown that the
body formed by conjugation may, at a low estimate, have
given exit to thirty thousand of them; a result of a
matrimonial process whereby the contracting parties,

176 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

without a metaphor, "become one flesh," enough to
make a Malthnsian despair of the future of the Universe.

I am not aware that the investigators from whom
I have borrowed this history have endeavoured to ascer-
tain whether their monads take solid nutriment or not ;
so that though they help us very much to fill up the
blanks in the history of my Heteromita^ their observa-
tions throw no light on the problem we are trying to
solve Is it an animal or is it a plant?

Undoubtedly it is possible to bring forward very
strong arguments in favour of regarding Heteromita as a
plant.

For example, there is a Fungus, an obscure and
almost microscopic mould, termed Peronospora infes-
tans. Like many other Fungi, the Peronosporce are
parasitic upon other plants ; and this particular Perono-
spora happens to have attained much notoriety and po-
litical importance, in a way not without a parallel in the
career of notorious politicians, namely, by reason of the
frightful mischief it has done to mankind. For it is this
Fimgm which is the cause of the potato disease ; and,
therefore, Peronospora infestans (doubtless of exclu-
sively Saxon origin, though not accurately known to be
so) brought about the Irish famine. The plants afflicted
with the malady are found to be infested by a mould,
consisting of fine tubular filaments, termed hyphen, which
burrow through the substance of the potato plant, and
appropriate to themselves the substance of their host;
while, at the same time, directly or indirectly, they set

AFMALS AND PLANTS. 177

up chemical changes by which even its woody framework
becomes blackened, sodden, and withered.

. In structure, however, the Peronospora is as much a
mould as the common PenwilUum ; and just as the
Penicillium multiplies by the breaking up of its hyphse
into separate rounded bodies, the spores ; so, in the
Peronospora, certain of the hyphse grow out into the
air through the interstices of the superficial cells of the
potato plant, and develop spores. Each of these hyphss
usually gives off several branches. The ends of the
branches dilate and become closed sacs, which eventually
drop off as spores. The spores falling on some part of
the same potato plant, or carried by the wind to another,
may at once germinate, throwing out tubular prolonga-
tions which become hyphse, and burrow into the sub-
stance of the plant attacked. But, more commonly, the
contents of the spore divide into six or eight separate
portions. The coat of the spore gives way, and each
portion then emerges as an independent organism, which
has the shape of a bean, rather narrower at one end than,
the other, convex on one side, and depressed or concave
on the opposite. From the depression, two long and
delicate cilia proceed, one shorter than the other, and
directed forwards. Close to the origin of these cilia, in.
the substance of the body, is a regularly pulsating, con-
tractile vacuole. The shorter cilium vibrates actively,
and effects the locomotion of the organism, while the
other trails behind ; the whole body rolling on its axis
with its pointed end forwards.

178 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

The eminent botanist, De Bary, -who was not think-
ing of our problem, tells us 5 in describing the move-
ments of these "Zoospores," that, as they swim, about,
"Foreign bodies are carefully avoided, and the whole
movement has a deceptive likeness to the voluntary
changes of place which are observed in microscopic an-
imals."

After swarming about in this way in the moisture on
the surface of a leaf or stem (which, film though it may
be, is an ocean to such a fish) for half an hour, more or
less, the movement of the zoospore becomes slower, and
is limited to a slow turning upon its axis, without change
of place. It then becomes quite quiet, the cilia dis-
appear, it assumes a spherical form, and surrounds itself
with a distinct, though delicate, membranous coat. A
protuberance then grows out from one side of the
sphere, and rapidly increasing in length, assumes the
character of a hypha. The latter penetrates into the
substance of the potato plant, either by entering a sto-
mate, or by boring through the wall of an epidermic cell,
and ramifies, as a mycelium, in the substance of the
plant, destroying the tissues with which it comes in con-
tact. As these processes of multiplication take place
very rapidly, millions of spores are soon set free from a
single infested plant ; and, from their minuteness, they
are readily transported by the gentlest breeze. Since,
again, the zoospores set free from each spore, in virtue
of their powers of locomotion, swiftly disperse them-
selves over the surface, it is no wonder that the infec-

AOTMALS AIN T D PLANTS. 179

tion, once started, soon spreads from field to field, and
extends its ravages over a whole country.

However, it does not enter into my present plan to
treat of the potato disease, instructively as its history
bears upon that of other epidemics ; and I have selected
the case of the Peronospora simply because it affords an
example of an organism, which, in one stage of its exist-
ence, is truly a "Monad," indistinguishable by any
important character from our S^eteromita^ and extraor-
dinarily like it in some respects. And yet this " Monad "
can be traced, step by step, through the series of meta-
morphoses which I have described, until it assumes the
features of an organism, which is as much a plant as is
an oak or an elm.

Moreover, it would be possible to pursue the analogy
farther. Under certain circumstances, a process of con-
jugation takes place in the Peronospora. Two separate
portions of its protoplasm become fused together, sur-
round themselves with a thick coat, and give rise to a
sort of vegetable egg called an oospore. After a period
of rest, the contents of the oospore break up into a num-
ber of zoospores like those already described, each of
which, after a period of activity, germinates in the ordi-
nary way. This process obviously corresponds with the
conjugation and subsequent setting free of germs in the
Seteromita.

But it may be said that the Peronospora is, after all,
a questionable sort of plant ; that it seems to be wanting
in the manufacturing power, selected as the main dis-

180 AKIMALS AND PLANTS.

tinctive character of vegetable life ; or, at any rate, that
there is no proof that it does not get its protein matter
ready made from the potato plant.

Let us ? therefore, take a case which is not open to
these objections.

There are some small plants known to botanists as
members of the genus ColeocJicete, which, without being
truly parasitic, grow upon certain water-weeds, as lichens
grow upon trees. The little plant has the form of an
elegant green star, the branching arms of which are
divided into cells. Its greenness is due to its chlorophyll,
and it undoubtedly has the manufacturing power in full
degree, decomposing carbonic acid and setting oxygen
free, under the influence of sunlight. But the proto-
plasmic contents of some of the cells of which the plant
is made up occasionally divide, by a method similar to
that which effects the division of the contents of the
JPeronospora spore; and the severed portions are then
set free as active monad-like zoospores. Each is oval
and is provided at one extremity with two long active
cilia. Propelled by these, it swims about for a longer or
shorter time, but at length comes to a state of rest and
gradually grows into a Coleoehcete. Moreover, as in the
feronospora, conjugation may take place and result in
an oospore; the contents of which divide and are set
free as monadiform germs.

If the whole history of the zoospores of Peronospora
and of ColeocJicete were unknown, they would undoubt-
edly be classed among " Monads " with the same right

ANIMALS AND PLANTS. 181

as Heteromita / why then may not Heteromita be a
plant, even though the cycle of forms through which it
passes shows no terms quite so complex as those which
occur in Peronospora and Coleochcete? And, in fact,
there are some green organisms, in every respect charac-
teristically plants, such as Chlamydomonas, and the com-
mon Vofoo&, or so-called "Globe animalcule," which
run through a cycle of forms of just the same simple
character as those of Heteromita.

The name of Cklamydomonas is applied to certain
microscopic green bodies, each of which consists of a
protoplasmic central substance invested by a structureless
sac. The latter contains cellulose, as in ordinary plants ;
and the chlorophyll which gives the green colour enables
the Ohlamydomonas to decompose carbonic acid and fix
carbon as they do, Two long cilia protrude through the
cell -wall, and effect the rapid locomotion of this
" monad," which, in all respects except its mobility, is
characteristically a plant. Under ordinary circumstances,
the CKLamydomonas multiplies by simple fission, each
splitting into two or into four parts, which separate and
become independent organisms. Sometimes, however,
the Ghlamydomonas divides into eight parts, each of
which is provided with four instead of two cilia. These
u zoospores" conjugate in pairs, and give rise to quies-
cent bodies, which multiply by division, and eventually
pass into the active state.

Thus, so far as outward form and the general char-
acter of the cycle of modifications, through which the

182 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

organism passes in the course of its life, are concerned,
the resemblance between Chlamydomonas and Het&ro-
mita is of the closest description. And on the face of
the matter there is no ground for refusing to admit that
Heteromita may be related to Chlamydomonas, as the
colourless fungus is to the green alga. Volvox may be
compared to a hollow sphere, the wall of which is made
up of coherent Ohlamydomonads ; and which progresses
with a rotating motion effected by the paddling of the
multitudinous pairs of cilia which project from its sur-
face. Each F0to0a?-monad, moreover, possesses a red
pigment spot, like the simplest form of eye known
among animals. The methods of fissive multiplication
and of conjugation observed in the monads of this loco-
motive globe are essentially similar to those observed in
Chlamydomonas / and, though a hard battle has been
fought over it, Yolwx is now finally surrendered to the
Botanists.

Thus there is really no reason why Heteromita may
not be a plant ; and this conclusion would be very sat-
isfactory, if it were not equally easy to show that there
is really no reason why it should not be an animal.
For there are numerous organisms presenting the closest
resemblance to Heteromita^ and, like it, grouped under
the general name of "Monads," which, nevertheless,
can be observed to take in solid nutriment, and which,
therefore, have a virtual, if not an actual, month and
digestive cavity, and thus come under Ouvier's defini-
tion of an animal. Numerous forms of such animals

ANIMALS AND PLANTS. 183

have been described by Ekrenberg, Dujardin, H. James
Clark, and other writers on the Infusoria. Indeed, in
another infusion of hay in which my Heteromita lens
occurred, there were innumerable infusorial animalcules
belonging to the well-known species Colpoda cucullus*

Full-sized specimens of this animalcule attain a length
of between -^^ or ^-^ of an inch, so that it may have
ten times the length and a thousand times the mass of
a Heteromita. In shape, it is not altogether unlike Het-
eromita. The small end, however, is not produced into
one long cilium, but the general surface of the body is
covered with small actively vibrating ciliary organs,
which are only longest at the small end. At the point
which answers to that from which the two cilia arise in
Heteromita, there is a conical depression, the mouth;
and, in young specimens, a tapering filament, which re-
minds one of the posterior cilium of Heteromita., pro-
jects from this region.

The body consists of a soft granular protoplasmic
substance, the middle of which is occupied by a large
oval mass called the " nucleus ; " while, at its hinder
end, is a " contractile vacuole," conspicuous by its reg-
ular rhythmic appearances and disappearances. Obvi-
ously, although the Colpoda is not a monad, it differs
from one only in subordinate details. Moreover, tinder
certain conditions, it becomes quiescent, incloses itself
in a delicate case or cyst, and then divides into two,

* Excellently described by Stein, almost all of whose statements I
have verified.

184 ANIMALS AND PLANTS.

four, or more portions, wMch are eventually set free and
swim about as active Colpodce.

But this creature is an unmistakable animal, and f ull-
sized OolpodcB may be fed as easily as one feeds chickens.
It is only needful to diffuse very finely ground carmine
through the water in which they live, and, in a very
short time, the bodies of the Colpodce are stuffed with
the deeply-coloured granules of the pigment.

And if this were not sufficient evidence of the ani-
mality of Colpoda, there comes the fact that it is even
more similar to another well-known animalcule, Para-
mcecium, than it is to a monad. But Paramceoiwn is
so huge a creature compared with those hitherto dis-
cussed it reaches -^ of an inch or more in length
that there is no difficulty in making out its organisa-
tion in detail j and in proving that it is not only an ani-
mal, but that it is an animal which possesses a somewhat
complicated organisation. For example, the surface layer
of its body is different in structure from the deeper
parts. There are two contractile vacuoles, from each
of which radiates a system of vessel-like canals; and
not only is there a conical depression continuous with
a tube, which serve as mouth and gullet, but the food in-
gested takes a definite course, and refuse is rejected from
a definite region. Nothing is easier than to feed these
animals, and to watch the particles of indigo or carmine
accumulate at the lower end of the gullet. From this
they gradually project, surrounded by a ball of water,
which at length passes with a jerk, oddly simulating

ANIMALS AKD PLANTS. 185

a gulp, into the pulpy central substance of tlie body,
there to circulate up one side and down the other, until
its contents are digested and assimilated. Neverthe-
less, this complex animal multiplies by division, as the
monad does, and, like the monad, undergoes conjuga-
tion. It stands in the same relation to Heteromita on
the animal side, as Coleochczte does on the plant side.
Start from either, and such an insensible series of gra-
dations leads to the monad that it is impossible to say
at any stage of the progress here the line between
the animal and the plant must be drawn.

There is reason to think that certain organisms which
pass through a monad stage of existence, such as the
MywomyceteS) are, at one time of their lives, dependent
upon external sources for their protein matter, or are
animals ; and, at another period, manufacture it, or are
plants. And seeing that the whole progress of modern
investigation is in favour of the doctrine of continuity,
it is a fair and probable speculation though only a
speculation that, as there are some plants which can
manufacture protein out of such apparently intractable
mineral matters as carbonic acid, water, nitrate of am-
monia, metallic and earthy salts ; while others need to
be supplied with their carbon and nitrogen in the some-
what less raw form of tartrate of ammonia and allied
compounds; so there may be yet others, as is possibly
the case with the true parasitic plants, which can only
manage to put together materials still better prepared
still more nearly approximated to protein until we

186 AMMALS AND PLANTS.

arrive at such organisms as the Psorospermm and the
Panhistopbyton, which are as mucli animal as vegetable
in structure, but are animal in their dependence on other
organisms for their food.

The singular circumstance observed by Meyer, that
the Torula of yeast, though an indubitable plant, still
flourishes most vigorously when supplied with the com-
plex nitrogenous substance, pepsin ; the probability that
the Peronospora is nourished directly by the protoplasm
of the potato-plant ; and the wonderful facts which have
recently been brought to light respecting insectivorous
plants, all favour this view ; and tend to the conclusion
that the difference between animal and plant is one
of degree rather than of kind; and that the problem
whether, in a given case, an organism is an animal or
a plant, may be essentially insoluble.

YIIL

ON CERTAIN EEEOKS RESPECTING- THE
STKUCTUBE OF THE HEART ATTRI-
BUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

IN all the commentaries upon the "Historia Ani-
malium" which I have met with, Aristotle's express
and repeated statement, that the heart of man and the
largest animals contains only three cavities, is noted as
a remarkable error. Even Cuvier, who had a great
advantage over most of the commentators in his famili-
arity with the subject of Aristotle's description, and
whose habitual caution and moderation seem to desert
him when the opportunity of panegyrising the philoso-
pher presents itself, is betrayed into something lite a
sneer on this topic.

"Da reste il n'attribue cet organe que trois cavit6s, errenr qui
prouve an moins qu'il en avait regard^ la structure." *

To which remark, what follows will, I think, justify
the reply, that it "prouve au moins" that Cuvier had
not given ordinary attention, to say nothing of the care-
ful study which they deserve, to sundry passages in the

* "Eistoire des Sciences Naturelles," L p, 152.

188 EEEOES ATTEIBUTED TO AEISTOTLE.

first and the third books of the " Historia " which I
proceed to lay before the reader.

For convenience of reference these passages are
marked A, J? ? C, etc.*

Book i. 17. (A) " The heart has three cavities, it lies above the
lung on the division of the windpipe, and has a fatty and thick
membrane where it is united with the great vein and the aorta. It
lies upon the aorta, with its point down the chest, in all animals
that have a chest. In all, alike in those that have a chest and in
those that have none, the foremost part of it is the apex. This is
often overlooked through the turning upside down of the dissection.
The rounded end of the heart is uppermost, the pointed end of it is
largely fleshy and thick, and in its cavities there are tendons. In
other animals which have a chest the heart lies in the middle of the
chest ; in men, more to the left side, between the nipples, a little in-
clined to the left nipple in the upper part of the chest. The heart
is not large, and its general form is not elongated but rounded, ex-
cept that the apex is produced into a point.

(#) " It has, as already stated, three cavities, the largest of them
is on the right, the smallest on the left, the middle-sized one in the
middle; they have all, also the two small ones, passages (rerpiififaas)
towards the lung, very evidently as respects one of the cavities.
In the region of the union [with the great vein and the aorta] the
largest cavity is connected with the largest vein (near which is
the mesentery) ; the middle cavity with the aorta.

(0) " Canals (n6poi) from the heart pass to the lung and divide
in the same fashion as the windpipe does, closely accompanying
those from the windpipe through the whole lung. The canals from
the heart are uppermost.

(D) "JSTo canal is common [to the branches of the windpipe and
those of the vein] (ovdelg <$' kcrl Kowbg rcrfpof) but through those parts

* The text I have followed is that given by Aubert and "Wimmer,
" Aristotolcs Thierkunde : kritiscb, berichtigter Text mit deutschen ITcbcr-
sctzung ; " but I have tried here and there to bring the English version
rather closer to the original than the German translation, excellent as it is,
seems to me to be.

EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE. 189

of them which are in contact (TJJV evvatpiv) the air passes in and they
[the 7r6poi\ carry it to the heart.

(E) "One of the canals leads to the right cavity, the other to
the left."

(F) " Of all the viscera, the heart alone contains "blood [in itself].
The lung contains blood, not in itself but in the veins, the heart in
itself ; for in each of the cavities there is blood ; the thinnest is in
the middle cavity."

Book iii. 3. (G-) "Two veins lie in the thorax alongside the
spine, on its inner face; the larger more forwards, the smaller
behind; the larger more to the right, the smaller, which some call
aorta (on account of the tendinous part of it seen in dead bodies),
to the left. These take their origin from the heart; they pass
entire, preserving the nature of veins, through the other viscera
that they reach ; while the heart is rather a part of them, and more
especially of the anterior and larger one, which is continued into
veins above and below, while between these is the heart.

(H) " All hearts contain cavities, but, in those of very small
animals, the largest [cavity] is hardly visible, those of middling
size have another, and the biggest all three.

(7) "The point of the heart is directed forwards, as was men-
tioned at first; the largest cavity to the right and upper side of it,
the smallest to the left, and the middle-sized one between these;
both of these are much smaller than the largest.

(JT) "They are all connected by passages (awTerp^vrai) with
the lung, but, on account of the smallness of the canals, this is
obscure except in one.

() "The great vein proceeds from the largest cavity which
lies upwards and to the right; next through the hollow middle part
(Sta rov KolTwv rov fjtlffov) it becomes vein again, this cavity being a
part of the vein in which the blood stagnates.

(M ) " The aorta [proceeds from] the middle [cavity], but not in
the same, way, for it is connected [with the middle cavity] by a
much more narrow tube (cbptyya).

(N) " The [great] vein extends through the heart, towards the
aorta from the heart.

(0) " The great vein is membranous like skin, the aorta nar-
rower than it and very tendinous, and as it extends towards the head
and the lower parts it becomes narrow and altogether tendinous.

(P) " In the first place, a part of the great vein extends up-

190 ERRORS ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

wards from the heart towards the lung and the attachment of the
aorta, the vein being large and nndivided. It divides into two
parts, the one to the lung, the other to the spine and the lowest
vertebra of the neck.

(Q) "The vein which extends to the lung first divides into two
parts for the two halves of it and then extends alongside each tube
(cbpLyya) and each passage (rpj^a), the larger beside the larger and
the smaller beside the smaller, so that no part [of the lung] can be
found from which a passage (rp^a) and a vein are absent. The
terminations are invisible on account of their minuteness, but the
whole lung appears full of blood. The canals from the vein lie
above the tubes given, off from the windpipe."

The key to the whole of the foregoing description of
the heart lies in the passages (ff) and (Z). They prove
that Aristotle, like Galen, five hundred years afterwards,
and like the great majority of the old Greek anato-
mists, did not reckon what we call the right auricle as
a constituent of the heart at all, but as a hollow part,
or dilatation, of the a great vein." Aristotle is careful
to state that his observations were conducted on suffo-
cated animals ; and if any one will lay open the thorax
of a dog or a rabbit, which has been killed with chlo-
roform, in such a manner as to avoid wounding any
important vessel, he will at once see why Aristotle
adopted this view.

For, as the subjoined figure (p. 191) shows, the vena
cava inferior (J), the right auricle (J?.&.), and the vena
cava superior and innominate vein ( V.I.) distended with
blood seem to form one continuous column, to which
the heart is attached as a sort of appendage. This
column is, as Aristotle says, vein above (a) and vein
below (5), the upper and the lower divisions being con-

ERRORS ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

191

Lsv

vr.

A dog having been killed by chloroform, enough of the right wall of
the thorax was removed, without any notable bleeding, to expose the
thoracic viscera. A carefully measured outline sketch of the parts in
situ was then made, and on dissection, twenty-four hours afterwards,
the necessary anatomical details were added. The woodcut is a faith-
fully reduced copy of the drawing thus constructed ; and it represents
the relations of the heart and great vessels as Aristotle saw them in a
suffocated animal.

All but the inner lobe of the right lung has been removed ; as well as the
right half of the pericardium and the right walls of the right auricle
and ventricle. It must be remembered that the thin transparent peri-
cardial membrane appears nothing like so distinct in nature,

a.6., Aristotle's "great vein " ; F./., right vena innominata and vena cava
superior ; 5, the inferior vena cava ; J2.a., the " hollow middle " part of
the great vein or the right auricle; R.v', the prolongation of the cavity
of the right ventricle JR.v towards the pulmonary artery ; /r, one of the
tricuspid valves ; Pc r the pericardium ; Lsv, superior intercostal vein ;
As, vena azygos; P. A., right pulmonary artery; J?r, right bronchus;
Z, inner lobe of the right lung ; 5", oesophagus ; Ao, descending aorta ;
H, liver, in section, with hepatic vein, vena portse, and gall-bladder, #6,
separated by the diaphragm, also seen in section, from the thoracic cavity.
9

192 EEEOKS ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

nected Sta rov /coZAou rov jiecrov or by means of the
intervening cavity or chamber (B.a.} which is tliat
winch we call the right auricle.

But when, from the four cavities of the heart rec-
ognised by us moderns, one is excluded, there remain
three which is just what Aristotle says. The solu-
tion of the difficulty is, in fact, as absurdly simple as
that presented by the egg of Columbus ; and any error
there may be, is not to be put down to Aristotle, but
to that inability to comprehend that the same fact may
be accurately described in different ways, which is the
special characteristic of the.commentatorial mind. That
the three cavities mentioned by Aristotle are just those
which remain if the right auricle is omitted, is plain
enough from what is said in (j?), (G\ (E), (/), and (Z).
For, in a suffocated animal, the "right cavity" which is
directly connected with the great vein, and is obviously
the right ventricle, being distended with blood, will
look much larger than the middle cavity, which, since
it gives rise to the aorta, can only be the left ventri-
cle. And this, again, will appear larger than the
thin and collapsed left auricle, which must be Aris-
totle's left cavity, inasmuch as this cavity is said to
be connected by Tropoi with the lung. The reason why
Aristotle considered the left auricle to be a part of
the heart, while he merged the right auricle in the
great vein, is, obviously, the small relative size of the
venous trunks and their sharper demarcation from the
auricle. Galen, however, perhaps more consistently, re-

EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO AEISTOTLE. 193

garded the left auricle also as a mere part of the " arte-
ria venosa." The canal which leads from the right cav-
ity of the heart to the lung (or, as Aristotle puts it (E),
from the lung to the heart) is, without doubt, the pul-
monary artery. But it may be said that, in this case,
Aristotle contradicts himself, inasmuch as in (P) and
(Q) a vessel, which is obviously the pulmonary artery, is
described as a branch of the great vein. However, this
difficulty also disappears, if we reflect that, in Aristotle's
way of looking at the matter, the line of demarcation
between the great vein and the heart coincides with the
right auriculo-ventricular aperture; and that, inasmuch
as the conical prolongation of the right ventricle which
leads to the pulmonary artery (R.v r in the Figure), lies
close in front of the auricle, its base may very easily (as
the figure shows) be regarded as a part of the general
opening of the great vein into the right ventricle. In
fact, it is clear that Aristotle, having failed to notice the
valves of the heart, did not distinguish the part of the
right ventricle from which the pulmonary artery arises
(7?.i/) from the proper trunk of the artery on the one
hand, and from the right auricle (J?.a.) on the other.
Thus the root, as we may call it, of the pulmonary artery
and the right auricle, taken together, are spoken of as
the " part of the great vein which extends upwards "
(jP); and, as the vena azygos (Az) was one branch of
this, so the " vein to the lung " was regarded as another
branch of it. But the latter branch, being given off
close to the connection of the great vein with the ven-

194: EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

tricle, was also counted as one of the two iropot, by which,
the " heart " (that is to say the right ventricle, the left
yentricle, and the left auricle of our nomenclature) com-
municates with the lung.

The only other difficulty that I observe is connected
with (JT). If Aristotle intended by this to affirm that
the middle cavity (the left ventricle), like the other two,
is directly connected with the lung by a Tropo?, he would
be in error. But he has excluded this interpretation of
his words by (E), in which the number and relations of
the canals, the existence of which he admits, are distinct-
ly defined. I can only imagine then, that, so far as this
passage applies to the left ventricle, it merely refers to
the indirect communication of that cavity with the ves-
sels of the lungs, through the left auricle.

On this evidence I submit that there is no escape
from the conclusion that, instead of having committed a
gross blunder, Aristotle has given a description of the
heart which, so far as it goes, is remarkably accurate.
He is in error only in regard to the differences which
he imagines to exist between large and small hearts
(H).

Ouvier (who has been followed by other commenta-
tors) ascribes another error to Aristotle:

"Aristoto supposo quo la tracMc-art^ro so prolonge jusgu'au
coexir, ot somblo croiro, en consilience, quo Pair y p<n6tro (I c.
p. 152)."

Upon what foundation Cuvicr rested the first of these
two assertions, I am at a loss to divine. As a matter of

EEEOES ATTEEBUTED TO AEISTOTLE. 195

fact, it will appear from the following excerpts tliat Aris-
totle gives an account of the structure of tlie lungs which
is almost as good as that of the heart, and that it contains
nothing about any prolongation of the windpipe to the
heart.

" "Within, the neck lie what is called the oesophagus (so named
on account of its length and its narrowness) and the windpipe
(apTijpia). The position of the windpipe in all animals that have
one, is in front of the ossophagas. All animals which possess a lung
have a windpipe. The windpipe is of a cartilaginous nature and is
exsanguine, but is surrounded by many little veins. . . .

"It goes downwards towards the middle of the lung, and then,
divides for each of the halves of the lung. In all animals that pos-
sess one, the lung is divided into two parts ; but, in those which
bring forth their young alive, the separation is not equally well
marked, least of all in man.

" In oviparous animals, such as birds, and in quadrupeds which
are oviparous, the one half of the lung is widely separated from the
other ; so that it appears as if they had two lungs. And from being
single, the windpipe becomes (divided into) two, which extend to
each half of the lung. It is fastened to the great vein, and to what
is called the aorta. "When the windpipe is blown up, the air passes
into the hollow parts of the lung. In these, are cartilaginous tubes
(6ia,(f>v(jus) which unite at an angle ; from the tubes passages (rp^/j,ara)
traverse the whole of the lung ; they are continually given off, the
smaller from the larger." (Book i. 16.)

That Aristotle should speak of the lung as a single
organ divided into two halves, and should say that the
division is least marked in man, is puzzling at first ; but
the statement becomes intelligible, if we reflect upon the
close union of the bronchi, the pulmonary vessels and the
mediastinal walls of the pleurae, in mammals ; * and it is

* In modern works on Veterinary Anatomy the lungs are sometimes
described as two lobes of a single organ.

196 EBROKS ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

quite true that the lungs are much more obviously dis-
tinct from one another in birds.

Aubert and "Wimmer translate the last paragraph of
the passage just cited as follows :

"Diese iiaben aber Imorpelige Scheidewande, welohe untcr spit-
zen "Winkeln zusammentreten, und aus ihnen fuhren Oeffnungen
durch die ganze Lunge, indcin sie sicli in immer kleineron ver-
zweigen."

But I cannot think that by Sux,(j>v<ri,? and rprjpara, in
this passage, Aristotle meant either "partitions" or open-
ings in the ordinary sense of the latter word. For, in
Book iii. Cap. 3, in describing the distribution of the
"vein which goes to the lung" (the pulmonary artery),
he says that it

"extends alongside each tube (a&piyya) and each passage (rpypa), the
larger beside the larger, and the smaller beside the smaller ; so that
no part (of the lung) can be found from which a passage (rp^aa) and
a vein are absent."

Moreover, in .Book i. 17, he says

" Canals (ndpoi) from the heart pass to the lung and divide in the
same fashion as the windpipe does, closely accompanying those from
the windpipe through the whole lung*"

And again in Book i. 17

"It (the lung) is entirely spongy, and alongside of each tube
(pbpiyya) run canals (ir6poi) from the great vein."

On comparing the last three statements with the facts
of the case, it is plain that by eriJ/wyy^, or tubes, Aristotle
means the bronchi and so many of their larger divisions
as obviously contain cartilages; and that by

EEEOES ATTBIBUTED TO AEISTOTLE. 197

ew he denotes the same tilings ; and, if this be so 5
then the Tprj/jLara must be the smaller bronchial canals, in
which the cartilages disappear.

This view of the structure of the lung is perfectly
correct so far as it extends; and, bearing it in mind,
we shall be in a position to understand what Aristotle
thought about the passage of air from the lungs into the
heart. In every part of the lung, he says, in effect,
there is an air tube which is derived from, the trachea,
and other tubes which are derived from the Tropoi which
connect the lung with the heart (supra , C). Their ap-
plied walls constitute the thin " synapses " (TTJV o-uvafyiv}
through which the air passes out of the air tubes into the
Tropot, or blood-vessels, by transudation or diffusion ; for
there is no community between the cavities of the air
tubes and cavities of the canals ; that is to say, no open-
ing from one into the other (supra, D).

On the words " KQWQS Tropo? " Anbert and Wipam'er
remark (I. c. p. 239), " Da A. die Ansicht hat die Lungen-
luft wiirde dem Herzen zugefiihrt ? so postulirt er statt
vieler kleiner Verbindungen einen grosses. Yerbindnngs-
gang zwischen Lunge und Herz."

But does Aristotle make this assumption ? The only
evidence so far as I know in favour of the affirmative
answer to this question is the following passage:

Kal % Kapdta r% aprrjpig, TrifiE^Sect not xovdp&dect,
8& GwJjpTzrai, Kolh6v eariv, <j>veu/i,vw <5 ri
fiv kvioig ev ov Kar&dT^ov voiel, h 6% role /re^ocrt r&v ^ov 6qhov fat
dcp%era<, rb nvsvfta e? avrfyv" (L cap. 16).

" The heart and tlie windpipe are connected "by fatty and carti-

198 EEEOES ATTBIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

laginous and fibrous bands ; where they are connected it is hollow.
Blowing into the windpipe does not show clearly in some animals,
but in the larger animals it is clear that the air goes into it."

Anbert and Wimmer give a somewhat different ren-
dering of this passage :

"Auch das Herz hiingt mit der Luftrohre durch fettreiche,
knorpelige nnd faserige Bander zusammen ; und cla, wo sie zusam-
menhangen, ist eine Hohlung. Beirn Auf blasen dcr Lunge wird es
bei manchen Thieren nicht wahrnehmbar, bei don grosseren aber
ist es offenbar, dass die Luft in das Ilerz gelangt."

The sense here turns upon the signification which is
to be ascribed to ek avryv. But if these words refer to
the heart, then Aristotle has distinctly pointed out the
road which the air, in his opinion, takes, namely, through
the " synapses " (Z?) ; and there is no reason that I can
discover to believe that he " postulated 3? any other and
more direct communication.

hi With respect to the meaning of /co1\6v zanv^ Aubert
anoTWimnier observe:

" Dies scheint wohl die lairae Lnngenvcne zu sein. Schneider
bezieht dies auf die Vorkarnmern, allein dioso werden unten als
Hohlen des Herzens beschrioben."

I am disposed to think, on the contrary, that the
words refer simply to the cavity of the pericardium.
For a part of this cavity ($mus tmnsversus pericardia)
lies between the aorta, on the one hand, and the pul-
monary vessels with the bifurcation of the trachea, on
the other hand, and is much more conspicuous in some
animals than in man. It is strictly correct, therefore, in
Aristotle's words, to say that where the heart and the

EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE. 199

windpipe are connected "it is hollow/ 3 If lie Lad
meant to speak of one of the pulmonary veins, or of
any of the cavities of the heart, he "would have used the
terms Tropoi or tcoiXias which he always employs for these
parts.

According to Aristotle, then, the air taken into the
lungs passes, from the final ramifications of the bronchial
tubes into the corresponding branches of the pulmonary
blood-vessels, not through openings, but by transudation,
or, as we should nowadays say, diffusion, through the
thin partitions formed by the applied coats of the two
sets of canals. But the " pneuma " which thus reached
the interior of the blood-vessels was not, in Aristotle's
opinion, exactly the same, thing as the air. It was " atfp
TroXu? pea>v teal adpoos " (De Mundo," iv. 9) subtilised
and condensed air ; and it is hard to make out whether
Aristotle considered it to possess the physical properties
of an elastic fluid or those of a liquid. As he affirms
that all the cavities of the heart contain blood (F)^ it is
clear that he did not hold the erroneous view propounded
in the next generation by Erasistratus. On the other
hand, the fact that he supposes that the spermatic arte-
ries do not contain blood but only an at/j,ar&$i]<$ wypov
(" Hist Animalium," iii. 1), shows that his notions re-
specting the contents of the arteries were vague. "Nor
does he seem to have known that the pulse is character-
istic only of the arteries ; and as he thought that the
arteries end in solid fibrous bands, he naturally could
not have entertained the faintest conception of the true

200 EBROBS ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

motion of the blood. But, without attempting to read
into Aristotle modern conceptions which, never entered
his mind, it is only just to observe that his view of what
becomes of the air taken into the lungs is by no means
worthy of contempt as a gross error. On the contrary,
here, as in the case of his anatomy of the heart, what
Aristotle asserts is true as far as it goes. Something
does actually pass from the air contained in the lungs
through the coats of the vessels into the blood, and
thence to the heart ; to wit, oxygen. And I think that
it speaks very well for ancient Greek science that the
investigator of so difficult a physiological problem as
that of respiration, should have arrived at a conclusion,
the statement of which, after the lapse of more than two
thousand years, can be accepted as a thoroughly estab-
lished scientific truth.

I trust that tlie case in favour of removing the state-
ments about the heart, from the list of the " errors of
Aristotle " is now clear ; and that the evidence proves,
on the contrary, that they justify us in forming a very
favourable estimate of the oldest anatomical investigations
among the Greeks of which any sufficient record remains.

But is Aristotle to be credited with the merit of hav-
ing ascertained so much of the truth? This question
will not appear superfluous to those who are acquainted
with the extraordinary history of Aristotle's works, or
who adopt the conclusion of Aubert and Wimmer, that,
of the ten books of the " Historia Animalium " which
have come down to us, three are largely or entirely spu-

EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE. 201

rious, and that the others contain many Interpolations
by later writers.

It so happens, however, that, apart from other rea-
sons, there are satisfactory internal grounds for ascribing
the acconnt of the heart to a writer of the time at which
Aristotle lived. For, within thirty years of his death,
the anatomists of the Alexandrian school had thoroughly
investigated the structure and the functions of the valves
of the heart. During this time the manuscripts of Aris-
totle were in the possession of Theophrastus ; and no
interpolator of later date would have shown that he was
ignorant of the nature and significance of these impor-
tant structures, by the brief and obscure allusion " in its
cavities there are tendons " (A). On the other hand,
Polybus, whose account of the vascular system is quoted
in the "Historia Animalium," was an elder contem-
porary of Aristotle. Hence, if any part of the work
faithfully represents that which Aristotle taught, we
may safely conclude that the description of the heart
does so. Having granted this much, however, it is an-
other question, whether Aristotle is to be regarded as the
first discoverer of the facts which he has so well stated,
or whether he, like other men, was the intellectual child
of his time and simply carried on a step or two the work
which had been commenced by others.

On the subject of Aristotle's significance as an origi-
nal worker in biology extraordinarily divergent views
have been put forward. If we are to adopt Curler's
estimate, Aristotle was simply a miracle:

202 EERORS ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE.

" Avant Aristote la pMlosophie, enti&rement speculative, se per-
dait dans les abstractions d^pourvues de f ondement ; la science n'ex-
istait pas. II semble qu'elle soit sortie toute faite du cerveau d' Aris-
tote comme Minerve, toute arm6e, du cerveau de Jupiter. Seul, en
effet, sans antecedents, sans rien emprunter aux siecles qui 1'avaient
precede, puisqu'ils n'avaient rien produit de solide, le disciple de
Platon decouvrit et demontra plus de verites, executa plus de tra-
vaux scientifigues en un vie de soixante-deux ans, qu'apr&s lui vingt
siecles n'en ont pu faire," * etc. etc.

u Aristote est le premier qui ait introduit la m^thode de I 1 in-
duction, de la comparaison des observations pour en faire sortir des
id&es g6ne"rales, et celle de Pexp<rience pour multiplier les faits dont
ces id^es gn6rales peuvent etre d6duites." ii. p. 515.

Tlie late Mr. G. H. Lewes ? f on the contrary, tells us
" on a superficial examination, therefore, lie [Aristotle]
will seem to have given tolerable descriptions; especi-
ally if approached with that disposition to discover mar-
vels which unconsciously determines us in our study of
eminent writers. But a more unbiassed and impartial
criticism will disclose that he has given no single ana-
tomical description of the least value. All that he knew
may have been known, and probably was known, with-
out dissection. ... I do not assert that he never opened
an animal ; on the contrary it seems highly probable
that lie had opened many. . . . He never followed the
course of a vessel or a nerve ; never laid bare the origin
and insertion of a muscle ; never discriminated the com-
ponent parts of organs ; never made clear to himself the
connection of organs into systems." (pp. 156-7.)

In the face of the description of the heart and lungs,

* "Histoirc cles Sciences Naturellcs." t. i. p. 180.
f " Aristotle, a Chapter from the History of Science."

EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO ARISTOTLE. 203

just quoted, I think we may venture to say that no one
who has acquired even an elementary practical acquaint-
ance with anatomy, and knows of his own knowledge
that which Aristotle describes, will agree with the opin-
ion expressed by Mr. Lewes; and those who turn to
the accounts of the structure of the rock lobster and the
common lobster, or to that of the Gephalopods and other
Mollusks, in the fourth book of the " Historia Anima-
liuin," will probably feel Inclined to object to it still
more strongly.

On the other hand, Ouvier's exaggerated panegyric
will as little bear the test of cool discussion. In Greece,
the century before Aristotle's birth was a period of great
intellectual activity, in the field of physical science no
less than elsewhere. The method of induction has never
been used to better effect than by Hippocrates; and
the labours of such men as Alkmeon, Demokritus, and
Polybus, among Aristotle's predecessors; Diokles, and
Praxagoras, among his contemporaries, laid a solid foun-
dation for the scientific study of anatomy and develop-
mentj independently of his labours. Aristotle himself
informs us that the dissection of animals was commonly
practised; that the aorta had been distinguished from
the great vein; and that the connection of both with
the heart had been observed by his predecessors. What
they thought about the structure of the heart itself or
that of the lungs, he does not tell us, and we have no
means of knowing. So far from arrogantly suggesting
that he owed nothing to his predecessors, Aristotle is

20i EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO AEISTOTLE.

careful to refer to their observations, and to explain why,
in Ms judgment, they fell into tlie errors which he
corrects.

Aristotle's knowledge, in fact, appears to have stood
in the same relation to that of such men as Polybus and
Diogenes of Apollonia, as that of Herophilus and Era-
sistratus did to his own, so far as the heart is concerned.
He carried science a step beyond the point at which he
found it ; a meritorious, but not a miraculous, achieve-
ment. What he did, required the possession of very
good powers of observation; if they had been powers
of the highest class, he could hardly have left such con-
spicuous objects as the valves of the heart to be discov-
ered by his successors.

And this leads me to make a final remark upon a
singular feature of the " Eistoria Animalium." As a
whole, it is a most notable production, full of accurate
information, and of extremely acute generalisations of
the observations accumulated by naturalists up to that
time. And yet, every here and there, one stumbles
upon assertions respecting matters which lie within the
scope of the commonest inspection, which are not so
much to be called errors, as stupidities. "What is to be
made of the statement that the sutures of women's skulls
are different from those of men ; that men and sundry
male animals have more teeth than their respective fe-
males ; that the back of the skull is empty ; and so on ?
It is simply incredible to me, that the Aristotle who
wrote the account of the heart, also committed himself

EEEOES ATTRIBUTED TO ABISTOTLE. 205

to absurdities which can be excused by no theoretical
prepossession and which are contradicted by the plainest
observation.

What, after all, were the original manuscripts of the
"Historia Animalium"? If they were notes of Aris-
totle's lectures taken by some of his students, any lec-
turer who has chanced to look through such notes, would
find the interspersion of a foundation of general and
sometimes minute accuracy, with patches of transcen-
dent blundering, perfectly intelligible. Some competent
Greek scholar may perhaps think it worth while to tell
us what may be said for or against the hypothesis thus
hinted. One obvious difficulty in the way of adopting
it is the fact that, in other works, Aristotle refers to
the "Historia Animalium 53 as if it had already been
made public by himself.

IX.

ON THE HYPOTHESIS THAT ANIMALS AEE
AUTOMATA, AND ITS HISTOEY.

THE first lialf of the seventeenth century is one of
the great epochs of biological science. For though sug-
gestions and indications of the conceptions which took
definite shape, at that time, are to be met with in works
of earlier date, they are little more than the shadows
which coming truth casts forward ; men's knowledge was
neither extensive enough, nor exact enough, to show
them the solid body of fact which threw these shadows.

But, in the seventeenth century, the idea that the
physical processes of life are capable of being explained
in the same way as other physical phenomena, and,
therefore, that the living body is a mechanism, waa
proved to be true for certain classes of vital actions ;
and, having thus taken firm root in irrefragable fact,
this conception has not only successfully repelled every
assault which has been made upon it, but has steadily
grown in force and extent of application, until it is
now the expressed or implied fundamental proposition
of the whole doctrine of scientific Physiology.

AKIMA1 AUTOMATISM. 207

If we ask to whom mankind are indebted for this
great service, tlie general voice will name William Har-
vey. For, by Ms discovery of the circulation of the
blood in the higher animals, by his explanation of the
nature of the mechanism by which that circulation is
effected, and by his no less remarkable, though less
known, investigations of the process of development,
Harvey solidly laid the foundations of all those physical
explanations of the functions of sustentation and repro-
duction which modern physiologists have achieved.

But the living body is not only sustained and repro-
duced : it adjusts itself to external and internal changes ;
it moves and feels. The attempt to reduce the endless
complexities of animal motion and feeling to law and
order is, at least, as important a part of the task of the
physiologist as the elucidation of what are sometimes
called the vegetative processes. Harvey did not make
this attempt himself; but the influence of his work
upon the man who did make it is patent and unques-
tionable. This man was Eene Descartes, who,, though
by many years Harvey's junior, died before him ; and
yet, in his short span of fifty-four years, took an undis-
puted place, not only among the chiefs of philosophy,
but amongst the greatest and most original of mathema-
ticians; while, in my belief, he is no less certainly en-
titled to the rank of a great and original physiologist ;
inasmuch as he did for the physiology of motion and
sensation that which Harvey had done for the circulation
of the blood, and opened up that road to the mechanical

208 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

theory of these processes, which has been followed "by
all his successors.

Descartes was no mere speculator, as some would
have us believe: but a man who knew of his own
knowledge what was to be known of the facts of
anatomy and physiology in his day. He was an un-
wearied dissector and observer ; and it is said, that, on
a visitor once asking to see his library, Descartes led
him into a room set aside for dissections, and full of
specimens under examination. "There/ 7 said he, "is
my library."

I anticipate a smile of incredulity when I thus
champion Descartes' claim to be considered a physiologist
of the first rank. I expect to be told that I have read
into his works what I find there, and to be asked, Why
is it that we are left to discover Descartes' deserts at
this time of day, more than two centuries after liis
death? How is it that Descartes is utterly ignored in
some of the latest works which treat expressly of the
subject in which he is said to have been so great?

It is much easier to ask such questions than to answer
them, especially if one desires to be on good terms with
one's contemporaries ; but, if I must give an answer, it
is this : The growth of physical science is now so pro-
digiously rapid, that those who are actively engaged in
keeping up with the present, have much ado to find
time to look at the past, and even grow into the habit
of neglecting it. But, natural as this result may be, it
is none the less detrimental. The intellect loses, for

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 209

there is assuredly no more effectual method of clearing
up one's own mind on any subject than by talking it
over, so to speak, with men of real power and grasp,
who have considered it from, a totally different point
of view. The parallax of time helps us to the true posi-
tion of a conception, as the parallax of space helps us
to that of a star. And the moral nature loses no less. It
is well to turn aside from the fretful stir of the present
and to dwell with gratitude and respect upon the
services of those " mighty men of old who have gone
down to the grave with their weapons of war," but who,
while they yet lived, won splendid victories over igno-
rance. It is well, again, to reflect that the fame of Des-
cartes filled all Europe, and his authority overshadowed
it, for a century ; while now, most of those who know
his name think of him, either as a person who had some
preposterous notions about vortices and was deservedly
annihilated by the great Sir Isaac Newton; or as the
apostle of an essentially vicious method of deductive
speculation ; and that, nevertheless, neither the chatter
of shifting opinion, nor the silence of personal oblivion,
has in the slightest degree affected the growth of the
great ideas of which he was the instrument and the
mouthpiece.

It is a matter of fact that the greatest physiologist
of the eighteenth century, Haller, in treating of the
functions of nerve, does little more than reproduce and
enlarge upon the ideas of Descartes. It is a matter of
fact that David Hartley, in his remarkable work the

210 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

" Essay oa Man," expressly, though, still insufficiently ?
acknowledges the resemblance of his fundamental con-
ceptions to those of Descartes ; and I shall now en-
deavour to show that a series of propositions, which
constitute the foundation and essence of the modern
physiology of the nervous system ? are fully expressed
and illustrated in the works of Descartes.

I. The Twain is the organ of sensation, thought, and
emotion ; that is to say, some change in the con-
dition of the matter of this organ is the invari-
able antecedent of the state of consciousness to
which each of these terms is applied.
In the Principes de la Philosophic " ( 169), Des-
cartes says : *

" Although the soul is united to the whole body, its principal
functions are, nevertheless, performed in the brain ; it is here that
it not only understands and imagines, but also feels ; and this is
effected by the intermediation of the nerves, which extend in the
form of delicate threads from the brain to all parts of the body, to
which they are attached in such a manner, that we can hardly touch
any part of the body without setting the extremity of some nerve
in motion. This motion passes along the nervo to that part of the
brain which is the common sensorium, as I have sufficiently ox-
plained in my Treatise on Dioptrics; and the movements which
thus travel along the nerves, as far as that part of the brain with
which the soul is closely joined and united, cause it, by reason
of their diverse characters, to have different thoughts. And it is
these different thoughts of the soul, which arise immediately from
the movements that are excited by the nerves in the brain, which
we properly term our feelings, or the perceptions of our senses."

* I quote, hero and always, Cousin's edition of the works of Descartes,
as most convenient for reference. It is entitled " OEuvres completes de
Descartes/' publics par Victor Cousin. 1824.

AOTMAL AUTOMATISM. 211

Elsewhere,* Descartes, In arguing that tlie seat of
the passions is not (as many suppose) the heart, but the
brain, uses the following remarkable language:

" The opinion of those who think that the soul receives its pas-
sions in the heart, is of no weight, for it is based upon the fact that
the passions cause a change to be felt in that organ ; and it is easy to
see that this change is felt, as if it were in the heart, only by the
intermediation of a little nerve which descends from the brain to
it ; Just as pain is felt, as if it were in the foot, by the intermedia-
tion of the nerves of the foot; and the stars are perceived, as if
they were in the heavens, by the intermediation of their light and
of the optic nerves. So that it is no more necessary for the soul to
exert its functions immediately in the heart, to feel its passions
there, than it is necessary that it should be in the heavens to see
the stars there."

This definite allocation of all the phenomena of
consciousness to the brain as their organ, was a step
the value of which it is difficult for us to appraise, so
completely has Descartes' view incorporated itself with
every-day thought and common language. A lunatic
is said to be " crack-brained " or " touched in the head/ 3
a confused thinker is u muddle-headed," while a clever
man is said to have " plenty of brains ; ?> but it must be
remembered that at the end of the last century a con-
siderable, though much over-estimated, anatomist, Bi-
chat, so far from having reached the level of Descartes,
could gravely argue that the apparatuses of organic life
are the sole seat of the passions, which in no way affect
the brain, except so far as it is the agent by which the
influence of the passions is transmitted to the muscles.f

* " Les Passions de PAme," Article xxxiii.

f " Recherches physiologiques sur la Vie et la Mort." Par Xav. Bichat
Art. Sixime.

212 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

Modern physiology, aided by pathology, easily dem-
onstrates that the brain is the seat of all forms of con-
sciousness, and fully bears out Descartes' explanation,
of the reference of those sensations in the viscera whicli
accompany intense emotion, to these organs. It proves,
directly, that those states of consciousness which we
call sensations are the immediate consequent of a change
in the brain excited by the sensory nerves ; and, on the
well-known effects of injuries, of stimulants, and of
narcotics, it bases the conclusion that thought and
emotion are, in like manner, the consequents of physi-
cal antecedents.

II. The movements of animals a/re due to the change
of form of muscles, which shorten and become
thicker; and this change of form in a muscle
arises from a motion of the substance contained
within the nerves which go to the muscle.

In the " Passions de 1'Ame," Art. vil, Descartes
writes :

" Moreover, we know that all tlie movements of tlie limbs de-
pend on the muscles, and that these muscles are opposed to one
another in such a manner, that when one of them shortens, it draws
along the part of the body to which it is attached, and so gives
rise to a simultaneous elongation of the muscle which is opposed to
it. Then, if it happens, afterwards, that the latter shortens, it
causes the former to elongate, and draws towards itself the part to
which it is attached. Lastly, we know that all these movements
of the muscles, as all the senses, depend on the nerves, which are
like little threads or tubes, which all come from the brain, and, like
it, contain a certain very subtle air or wind, termed the animal
spirits."

AOTMAL AUTOMATISM. 13

The property of muscle mentioned by Descartes
now goes by the general name of contractility, but his
definition of it remains untouched. The long-contin-
ued controversy whether contractile substance, speak-
ing generally, has an inherent power of contraction, or
whether it contracts only in virtue of an influence
exerted by nerve, is now settled in Haller's favour;
but Descartes' statement of the dependence of mus-
cular contraction on nerve holds good for the higher
forms of muscle, under normal circumstances ; so that,
although the structure of the various modifications of
contractile matter has been worked out with astonishing
minuteness although the delicate physical and chem-
ical changes which accompany muscular contraction have
been determined to an extent of which Descartes could
not have dreamed, and have quite upset his hypothe-
sis that the cause of the shortening and thickening of
the muscle is the flow of animal spirits into it from
the nerves the important and fundamental part of
his statement remains perfectly true.

The like may be affirmed of what he says about
nerve. We know now that nerves are not exactly
tubes, and that "animal spirits" are myths; but the
exquisitely refined methods of investigation of Du-
bois-Eeymond and of Helmhok have no less clearly
proved that the antecedent of ordinary muscular con-
traction is a motion of the molecules of the nerve
going to the muscle; and that this motion is propa'
gated with a measurable, and by no means great, ve-

214 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

locity, through the substance of the nerve towards the
nrascle.

"With the progress of research, the term "animal
spirits" gave way to "nervous fluid," and "nervous
fluid" has now given way to "molecular motion of
nerve-sub tance." Our conceptions of what takes place
in nerve have altered in the same way as our concep-
tions of what takes place in a conducting wire have
altered, since electricity was shown to be not a fluid,
but a mode of molecular motion. The change is of vast
importance, but it does not affect Descartes' fundamen-
tal idea, that a change in the substance of a motor nerve
propagated towards a muscle is the ordinary cause of
muscular contraction.

III. The sensations of animals are due to a motion of
the substance of the nerves which connect the sen-
sory organs with the hrain.

In La Dioptrique (Discours Quatriemc), Descartes
explains, more fully than in the passage cited above, his
hypothesis of the mode of action of sensory nerves :

"It is the little threads of which the inner substance of the
nerves is composed which subserve sensation. You must conceive
that these little threads, being inclosed in tubes, which are always
distended and kept open by the animal spirits which they contain,
neither press upon nor interfere with one another, and are extended
from the brain to the extremities of all the members which are sen-
sitive in such a manner that the slightest touch which excites the
part of one of the members to which a thread is attached, gives rise
to a motion of the part of the brain whence it arises, just as by pull-
ing one of the ends of a stretched cord, the other end is instantano-

AOTMAL AUTOMATISM. 215

ously moved. . . . And we must take care not to imagine that, in
order to feel, the soul needs to behold certain images sent by the
objects of sense to the brain, as our philosophers commonly sup-
pose ; or, at least, we must conceive these images to be something
quite different from what they suppose them to be. For, as all
they suppose is that these images ought to resemble the objects
which they represent, it is impossible for them to show how they
can be formed by the objects received by the organs of the external
senses and transmitted to the brain. And they have had no reason
for supposing the existence of these images except this ; seeing that
the mind is readily excited by a picture to conceive the object which
is depicted, they have thought that it must be excited in the same
way to conceive those objects which affect our senses by little pic-
tures of them formed in the head ; instead of which we ought to
recollect that there are many things besides images which may ex-
cite the mind, as, for example, signs and words, which have not the
least resemblance to the objects which they signify. 7 '*

Modern physiology amends Descartes' conception of
tlie mode of action of sensory nerves in detail, by stow-
ing that their structure is the same as that of motor
nerves ; and that the changes which take place in them,
when the sensory organs with which they are connected
are excited, are of just the same nature as those which
occur in motor nerves, when the muscles to which they
are distributed are made to contract : there is a molecu-
lar change which, in the case of the sensory nerve, is
propagated towards the brain. But the great fact in-
sisted upon by Descartes, that no likeness of external

* Locke (Human Understanding, Book II., chap. viii. SV) uses Des-
cartes' illustration for the same purpose, and warns us that " most of the
ideas of sensation are no more the likeness of something existing without
us than the names that stand for them are the likeness of our ideas, which
yet, upon hearing, they are apt to excite in us," a declaration which paved
the way for Berkeley.
10

216 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

tilings is, or can be, transmitted to the mind by the
sensory organs ; but that, between the external cause of
a sensation and the sensation, there is interposed a mode
of motion of nervous matter, of which the state of con-
sciousness is no likeness, but a mere symbol, is of the
profoundest importance. It is the physiological founda-
tion of the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge, and
a more or less complete idealism is a necessary conse-
quence of it.

For of two alternatives one must be true. Either
consciousness is the function of a something distinct
from the brain, which we call the soul, and a sensation
is the mode in which this soul is affected by the motion
of a part of the brain ; or there is no soul, and a sensa-
tion is something generated by the mode of motion of
a part of the brain. In the former case, the phenomena
of the senses are purely spiritual affections ; in the lat-
ter, they are something manufactured by the mechanism
of the body, and as unlike the causes which set that
mechanism in motion, as the sound of a repeater is un-
like the pushing of the spring which gives rise to it.

The nervous system stands between consciousness
and the assumed external world, as an interpreter who
can talk with his fingers stands between a hidden speaker
and a man who is stone deaf and Realism is equiva-
lent to a belief on the part of the deaf man, that the
speaker must also be talking with his fingers- "Les
extremes se touchent;" the shibboleth of materialists
that " thought is a secretion of the brain," is the Fich-

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 217

tean doctrine that "the phenomenal universe is the crea-
tion of the Ego," expressed in other language.

IV. The motion of the matter of a sensory nerve may be
transmitted through the brain to motor nerves, and
thereby give rise to contraction of the muscles to
which these motor nerves are distributed; and this
reflection of motion from a sensory into a motor
nerve may take place without volition, or even con-
trary to it.

In stating these important truths, Descartes defined
that which we now term "reflex action." Indeed he
almost uses the term itself, as he talks of the " animal
spirits " as " refl<chis," * from the sensory into the motor
nerves. And that this use of the word " reflected " was
no mere accident, but that the importance and appro-
priateness of the idea it suggests was fully understood
by Descartes' contemporaries, is apparent from a passage
in Willis's well-known essay, "De Anim& Brutorum,"
published in 1672, in which, in giving an account of
Descartes' views, he speaks of the animal spirits being
diverted into motor channels, "velut undulatione re-
flexL" f

* " Passions de 1' Ame," Art. xxxvL

f ** Quamcumque Bruti actionem, yelut automati mechanic! motum arti-
ficialem, in eo eonsistere quod se primd sensibile aliquod spiritus animates
afficiens, eosque introrsum convertens, semionem excitat, a qua mox iidem
spiritus, velut undulatione reflex& denuo retrorsum commoti atque pro con-
cinno ipsius f abricse organorum, et partium ordine, in certos nervos muscu-
losque determinati, respectivos membrorum motus perficiunt." ^WILLIS:
" De Anima Brutorum," p. 5, ed. 1763.

218 AOTMAL AUTOMATISM.

Nothing can be clearer in statement, or in illustra-
tion, titan the view of reflex action which. Descartes
gives in the "Passions de 1'A.me," Art. xiii.

After recapitulating the manner in which sensory
impressions transmitted by the sensory nerves to the
brain give rise to sensation, he proceeds :

u And in addition to the different feelings excited in the soul by
these different motions of the brain, the animal spirits, without the
intervention of the soul, may take their course towai'ds certain mus-
cles, rather than towards others, and thus move the limbs, as I shall
prove by an example. If some one moves his hand rapidly towards
our eyes, as if he were going to strike us, although we know that
he is a friend, that lie does it only in jest, and that he will be very
careful to do us no harm, nevertheless it will be hard to keep from
winking. And this shows, that it is not by the agency of the soul
that the eyes shut, since this action is contrary to that volition
which is the only, or at least the chief, function of the soul; but it
is because the mechanism of our body is so disposed, that the motion
of the hand towards our eyes excites another movement in our brain,
and this sends the animal spirits into those muscles which cause the
eyelids to close.'"

Since Descartes' time, experiment has eminently en-
larged our knowledge of the details of reflex action.
The discovery of Bell has enabled us to follow the tracks
of the sensory and motor impulses, along distinct bun-
dles of nerve fibres ; and the spinal cord, apart from the
brain, has been proved to be a great centre of reflex
action ; but the fundamental conception remains as Des-
cartes left it, and it is one of the pillars of nerve physi-
ology at the present day.

V. The motion of any gwen portion of the matter of the
train excited ly the motion of a sensory nerve, leaves

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 219

'behind a readiness to ~be moved in the same way, in
that part. Anything which resuscitates the motion
gives rise to the appropriate feeling. This is the
physical mechanism of memory.

Descartes imagined that the pineal body (a curious
appendage to the upper side of the brain, the function
of which, if it have any, is wholly unknown) was the
instrument through which the soul received impressions
from, and communicated them to, the brain. And he
thus endeavours to explain what happens when one tries
to recollect something :

" Thus when the soul wills to remember anything, this volition,
causing the [pineal] gland to incline itself in different directions,
drives the [animal] spirits towards different regions of the brain,
until they reach that part in which are the traces, which the object
which it desires to remember has left. These traces are produced
thus : those pores of the brain through which the [animal] spirits
have previously been driven, by reason of the presence of the ob-
ject, have thereby acquired a tendency to be opened by^ the animal
spirits which return towards them, more easily than other pores, so
that the animal spirits, impinging on these pores, enter them more
readily than others. By this means they excite a particular move-
ment in the pineal gland, which represents the object to the soul,
and causes it to know what it is which it desired to recollect." *

That memory is dependent upon some condition of
the brain is a fact established by many considerations
among the most important of which are the remarkable
phenomena of aphasia. And that the condition of the
brain on which memory depends, is largely determined
by the repeated occurrence of that condition of its mo-

* "Les Passions de PAme," xlil

220 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

lecules, winch gives rise to the idea of the thing remem-
bered, is no less certain. Every boy who learns his
lesson by repeating it exemplifies the fact. Descartes,
as we have seen, snpposes that the pores of a given part
of the brain are stretched by the animal spirits, on the
occurrence of a sensation, and that the part of the brain
thus stretched, being imperfectly elastic, does "not return
to exactly its previous condition, but remains more dis-
tensible than it was before. Hartley supposes that the
vibrations, excited by a sensory, or other, impression,
do not die away, but are represented by smaller vibra-
tions or " vibratiuncules," the permanency and intensity
of which are in relation with the frequency of repetition
of the primary vibrations. Haller has substantially the
same idea, but contents himself with the general term
" mutationes," to express the cerebral change which is
the cause of a state of consciousness. These "muta-
tiones" persist for a long time after the cause which
gives rise to them has ceased to operate, and are arranged
in the brain according to the order of coexistence and
succession of their causes. And he gives these persistent
" mutationes " the picturesque name of vestigia rerum,
".quse non in xnente sed in ipso corpore et in medulla
quidem cerebri ineffabili modo incredibiliter minutis
notis et copia infinita, inscripta sunt. 37 * I do not know
that any modem theory of the physical conditions of
memory differs essentially from these, which are all chil-
dren mutatis mutandis of the Cartesian doctrine.

* Haller, " Frimso Linese," cd. iii. " Sensus Interni," dlriii.

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 221

Physiology is, at present, incompetent to say anytMng
positively about the matter, or to go farther than the
expression of the high probability, that every molecular
change which gives rise to a state of consciousness, leaves
a more or less persistent structural modification, through
which the same molecular change may be regenerated
by other agencies than the cause which first produced it.

Thus far, the propositions respecting the physiology
of the nervous system which are stated by Descartes
have simply been more clearly defined, more fully illus-
trated, and, for the most part, demonstrated, by modern
physiological research. But there remains a doctrine to
which Descartes attached great weight, so that full ac-
ceptance of it became a sort of note of a thorough-going
Cartesian, but which, nevertheless, is so opposed to
ordinary prepossessions that it attained more general
notoriety, and gave rise to more discussion, than almost
any other Cartesian hypothesis. It is the doctrine, that
brute animals are mere machines or automata, devoid not
only of reason, but of any kind of consciousness, which is
stated briefly in the "Discours de la Methode," and
more fully in the "Eeponses aux Quatriemes Objec-
tions," and in the correspondence with Henry More.*

The process of reasoning by which Descartes arrived
at this startling conclusion is well shown in the following
passage of the " Keponses : "

* " Expense de M. Descartes a M. Moras." 1649. " GEuvres," tome x.
p. 204. " Mais le plus grand de tous les prSjuges que nous ayons retemis
de notre enfance, est celui de croire que les bites pensent," etc.

222 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

" But as regards the souls of "beasts, although this is not the
place for considering them, and though, without a general exposi-
tion of physics, I can say no more on this subject than I have
already said in the fifth part of my Treatise on Method ; yet, I will
farther state, here, that it appears to me to be a very remarkable
circumstance that no movement can take place, either in the bodies
of beasts, or even in our own, if these bodies have not in themselves
all the organs and instruments by means of which the very same
movements would be accomplished in a machine. So that, even in
us, the spirit, or tho soul, does not directly move the limbs, but only
determines the course of that very subtle liquid which is called the
animal spirits, which, running continually from the heart by the
brain into the muscles, is the cause of all the movements of our
limbs, and often may cause many different motions, one as easily as
the other.

" And it does not even always exert this determination ; for
among the movements which take place in us, there are many
which do not depend on the mind at all, such as the beating of the
heart, the digestion of food, the nutrition, the respiration, of those
who sleep ; and, even in those who are awake, walking, singing, and
other similar actions, when they are performed without the mind
thinking about them. And, when one who falls from a height
throws his hands forwards to save his head, ib is in virtue of no
ratiocination that he performs this action ; it does not depend upon
his mind, but takes place merely because his senses being afFected
by the present danger, some change arises in his brain which deter-
mines the animal spirits to pass thonce into the norvos, in such a
manner as is required to produce this motion, in the same way as in
a machine, and without tho mind being able to hinder it. IsTow
since we observe this in ourselves, why should we be so much
astonished if the light reflected from tho body of a wolf into the eye
of a sheep has the samo force to excite in it tho motion of flight.

" After having observed this, if we wish to learn by reasoning,
whether certain movements of boasts are comparable to those which
are effected in us by tho operation of the mind, or, on tho contrary,
to those which depond only on tho animal spirits and tho disposi-
tion of tho organs, it is necessary to consider the difference between
tho two, which I havo explained in tho fifth part of the Discourse
on Mothod (for I do not think that any others aro discoverable), and
then it will easily bo seen, that all tho actions of beasts are similar

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 223

only to those which WQ perform without the help of our minds.
For which reason we shall be forced to conclude, that we know of
the existence in them of no other principle of motion than the dis-
position of their organs and the continual affluence of animal spirits
produced by the heat of the heart, which attenuates and subtilises
the blood; and, at the same time, we shall acknowledge that we
have had no reason for assuming any other principle, except that,
not having distinguished these two principles of motion, and seeing
that the one, which depends only on the animal spirits and the
organs, exists in beasts as well as in us, we have hastily concluded
that the other, which depends on mind and on thought, was also
possessed by them."

Descartes' line of argument is perfectly clear. He
starts from reflex action in man, from the unquestionable
fact that, in ourselves, co-ordinate, purposive, actions
may take place, without the intervention of conscious-
ness or volition, or even contrary to the latter. As
actions of a certain degree of complexity are brought
about by mere mechanism, why may not actions of still
greater complexity be the result of a more refined
mechanism ? What proof is there that brutes are other
than a superior race of marionettes, which eat without
pleasure, cry without pain, desire nothing, know nothing,
and only simulate intelligence as a bee simulates a mathe-
matician ? *

* Malebranche states the view taken by orthodox Cartesians in 1689
very forcibly: " Ainsi dans les chiens, lea chats, et les autres animaux, il
n'y a ny intelligence, ny ame spirituelle comme on Pentend ordinairement.
Us mangent sans plaisir; ils crient sans dotileur; ils croissant sans le
s^avoir ; ils ne de"sirent rien ; ils ne connoissent rien ; et s'ils agissent avec
adresse et d'une maniSre qui marque PintelKgence, c'est que Dieu les f aisant .
pour les conserver, il a conform^ leurs corps de telle maniere, qu'ils e"vitent
organiquement, sans le S9avoir, tout ce qui pent les de*traire et qu'ils
.semblent craindre." ("Feuillet de Conches. Meditations M&aphysiques et
Correspondance de N. Malebranche. Neuvie'me Meditation." 1841.)

224 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

The Port Koyalists adopted tlie hypothesis that
"brutes are machines, and are said to have carried its
practical applications so far, as to treat domestic animals
with neglect, if not with actual cruelty. As late as the
middle of the eighteenth century, the problem was dis-
cussed very fully and ably by Bouillier, in his "Essai
philosophique sur 1'Ame des Betes," while Oondillac
deals with it in his " Traite des Animaux ; " but since
then it has received little attention. Nevertheless, mod-
ern research has brought to light a great multitude of
facts, which not only show that Descartes' view is defen-
sible, but render it far more defensible than it was in his
day.

It must be premised, that it is wholly impossible
absolutely to prove the presence or absence of conscious-
ness in anything but one's own brain, though, by anal-
ogy, we are justified in assuming its existence in other
men. Now if, by some accident, a man's spinal cord is
divided, his limbs are paralysed, so far as his volition
is concerned, below the point of injury; and he is in-
capable of experiencing all those states of consciousness,
which, in his "uninjured state, would be excited by irrita-
tion of those nerves which come off below the injury.
If the spinal cord is divided in the middle of the back,
for example, the skin of the feet may be cut, or pinched,
or burned, or wetted with vitriol, without any sensation
' of touch, or of pain, arising in consciousness. So far as
the man is concerned, therefore, the part of the central
nervous system which lies beyond the injury is cut off

AEIMAL AUTOMATISM. 225

from consciousness. It must indeed be admitted, that,
if any one think fit to maintain that the spinal cord
below the injury is conscious, but that it is cat off from
any means of making its consciousness known to the
other consciousness in the brain, there is no means of
driving him from his position by logic. But assuredly
there is no way of proving it, and in the matter of con-
sciousness, if in anything, we may hold by the rule, "De
non apparentibus et de uon existentibus eadem est ra-
tio." However near the brain the spinal cord is in-
jured, consciousness remains intact, except that the irri-
tation of parts below the injury is no longer represented
by sensation. On the other hand, pressure upon the
anterior division of the brain, or extensive injuries to
it, abolish consciousness. Hence, it is a highly probable
conclusion, that consciousness in man depends upon the
integrity of the anterior division of the brain, while the
middle and hinder divisions of the brain, and the rest
of the nervous centres, have nothing to do with it. And
it is further highly probable, that what is true for man
is true for other vertebrated animals.

We may assume, then, that in a living vertebrated
animal, any segment of the cerebro-spinal axis (or spinal
cord and brain) separated from that anterior division of
the brain which is the organ of consciousness, is as com-
pletely incapable of giving rise to consciousness, as we
know it to be incapable of carrying out volitions. Nev-
ertheless, this separated segment of the spinal cord is
not passive and inert. On the contrary, it is the seat

226 AFIMAL AUTOMATISM.

of extremely remarkable powers. In our imaginary
case of injury, the man would, as we have seen, be de-
void of sensation in his legs, and would have not the
least power of moving them. But, if the soles of his
feet were tickled, the legs would be drawn up, just as
vigorously as they would have been before the injury.
We know exactly what happens when the soles of the
feet are tickled ; a molecular change takes place in the
sensory nerves of the skin, and is propagated along them
and through the posterior roots of the spinal nerves,
which are constituted by them, to the grey matter of
the spinal cord. Through that grey matter, the molecu-
lar motion is reflected into the anterior roots of the
same, nerves, constituted by the filaments which supply
the muscles of the legs, and, travelling along these mo-
tor filaments, reaches the muscles, which at once con-
tract, and cause the limbs to be drawn up.

In order to move the logs in this way, a definite co-
ordination of muscular contractions is necessary ; the
muscles must contract in a certain order and with duly
proportioned force ; and moreover, as the feet are drawn
away from the source of irritation, it may be said that
the action has a final cause, or is purposive.

Thus it follows, that the grey matter of the segment
of the man's spinal cord, though it is devoid of con-
sciousness, nevertheless responds to a simple stimulus
by giving rise to a complex set of muscular contractions,
co-ordinated towards a definite end, and serving aa obvi-
ous purpose.

AEIMAL AUTOMATISM.

If the spinal cord of a frog is cut across, so as to
provide us with, a segment separated from the brain, we
shall have a subject parallel to the injured man, on
which experiments can be made without remorse; as
we have a right to conclude that a frog's spinal cord is
not likely to be conscious when a man's is not.

Now the frog behaves just as the man did. The
legs are utterly paralysed, so far as voluntary move-
ment is concerned ; but they are vigorously drawn up
to the body when any irritant is applied to the foot.
But let -us study our frog a little farther. Touch the
skin of the side of the body with a little acetic acid,
which gives rise to all the signs of great pain in an un-
injured frog. In this case, there can be no pain, because
the application is made to a part of the skin supplied
with nerves which come off from the cord below the
point of section ; nevertheless, the frog lifts up the limb
of the same side, and applies the foot to rub off the
acetic acid; and, what is still more remarkable, if the
limb be held BO that the frog cannot use it, it will, by-
and-by, move the limb of the other side, turn it across
the body, and use it for the same rubbing process. It
is impossible that the frog, if it were in its entirety and
could reason, should perform actions more purposive
than these: and yet we have most complete assurance
that, in this case, the frog is not acting from purpose,
has no consciousness, and is a mere insensible machine.
But now suppose that, instead of making a section
of the cord in the middle of the body, it had been made

228 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

in such a manner as to separate tlie hindermost division
of the brain from the rest of the organ, and suppose the
foremost two-thirds of the brain entirely taken away.
The frog is then absolutely devoid of any spontaneity ;
it sits upright in the attitude which a frog habitually
assumes ; and it will not stir unless it is touched ; but
it differs from the frog which I have just described in
this, that, if it be thrown into the water, it begins to
swim, and swims just as well as the perfect frog does.
But swimming requires the combination and successive
co-ordination of a great number of muscular, actions.
And we are forced to conclude, that the impression
made upon the sensory nerves of the skin of the frog
by the contact with the water into which it is thrown,
causes the transmission to the central nervous apparatus
of an impulse, which sets going a certain machinery by
which all the muscles of swimming are brought into play
in due co-ordination. If the frog be stimulated by some
irritating body, it jumps or walks as well $s the com-
plete frog can do. The simple sensory impression, act-
ing through the machinery of the cord, gives rise to
these complex combined movements.

It is possible to go a step farther. Suppose that only
the anterior division of the brain so much of it as lies
in front of the " optic lobes " is removed. If that oper-
ation is performed quickly and skilfully, the frog may
be kept in a state of full bodily vigour for months, or
it may be for years; but it will sit unmoved. It sees
nothing; it hears nothing. It will starve sooner than

AOTMAL AUTOMATISM. 229

feed itself, although food put into its month, is swal-
lowed. On irritation, it jnmps or walks ; if thrown into
the water it swims. If it he put on the hand, it sits
there, cronched, perfectly quiet, and would sit there for
ever. If the hand be inclined very gently and slowly,
so that the frog would naturally tend to slip off, the
creature's fore paws are shifted on to the edge of the
hand, nntil he can just prevent himself from falling.
If the turning of the hand he slowly continued, he
monnts np with great care and deliberation, pntting first
one leg forward and then another, nntil he balances
himself with perfect precision npon the edge; and, if
the tnrning of the hand is continued, over he goes
through the needful set of muscular operations, until he
comes to be* seated in security, upon the back of the
hand. The doing of all this requires a delicacy of co-
ordination, and a precision of adjustment of the muscu-
lar apparatus of the body, which are only comparable to
those of a rope-dancer. To the ordinary influences of
light, the frog, deprived of its central hemispheres,
appears to be blind. Nevertheless, if the animal be put
upon a table, with a book at some little distance between
it and the light, and the skin of the hinder part of its
body is then irritated, it will jump forward, avoiding
the book by passing to the right or left of it. Although
the frog, therefore, appears to have no sensation of light,
visible objects act through its brain upon the motor
mechanism of its body.*

*See the remarkable essay of Goltz, " Beitrage zur Lehre von den

230 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

It is obvious, that had Descartes been acquainted
with these remarkable results of modern research, they
would have furnished him with far more powerful argu-
ments than he possessed in favour of his view of the
automatism of brutes. The habits of a frog, leading
its natural life, involve such simple adaptations to sur-
rounding conditions, that the machinery which is compe-
tent to do so much without the intervention of con-
sciousness, might well do alL And this argument is
vastly strengthened by what has been learned in recent
times of the marvellously complex operations which are
performed mechanically, and to all appearance without
consciousness, by men, when, in consequence of injury
or disease, they, are reduced to a condition more or less
comparable to that of a frog, in which the anterior
part of the brain has been removed. A case has recently
been published by an eminent French physician, Dr.
Mesnet, which illustrates this condition so remarkably,
that I make no apology for dwelling upon it at con-
siderable length. 4 *

A sergeant of the French army, F , twenty-seven

years of age, was wounded during the battle of Bazeilles,
by a ball which fractured his left parietal bone. lie

Functionen dcr Ncrvencentren des Frosclies," published in 1869. I have
repeated Goltz's experiments, and obtained the same results,

* " De I' Automatisme de la M6moire et du Souvenir, dans le Somnam-
bulisme pathologique." Par le Dr. E. Mesnet, M^decin de PH6pital Saint-
Antoine, "L'XJnion MMIcale," Juillet 21 et 23, 1874. My attention was
first called to a summary of this remarkable case, which appeared In the
"Journal des De*bats" for the 7th of August 1874, by my friend General
Strachey, F.K.R

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 231

ran Ms bayonet through, the Prussian soldier who
wounded him, "but almost immediately his right arm
became paralysed; after walking about two hundred
yards, his right leg became similarly affected, and he
lost his senses. "When he recovered them, three weeks
afterwards, in hospital at Mayence, the right half of
the body was completely paralysed, and remained in
this condition for a year. At present, the only trace
of the paralysis which remains is a slight weakness of
the right half of the body. Three or four months
after the wound was inflicted, periodical disturbances
of the functions of the brain made their appearance,
and have continued ever since. The disturbances last
from fifteen to thirty hours ; the intervals at which they
occur being from fifteen to thirty days.

For four years, therefore, the life of this man has
been divided into alternating phases short abnormal
states intervening between long normal states.

In the periods of normal life, the ex-sergeant's health
is perfect ; he is intelligent and kindly, and performs,
satisfactorily, the duties of a hospital attendant. The
commencement of the abnormal state is ushered in by
uneasiness and a sense of weight about the forehead,
which the patient compares to the constriction of a circle
of iron; and, after its termination, he complains, for
some hours, of dulness and heaviness of the head. But
the transition from the normal to the abnormal state
takes place in a few minutes, without convulsions or
cries, and without anything to indicate the change to a

232 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

bystander. His movements remain free and his expres-
sion calm, except for a contraction of the brow, an in-
cessant movement of the eyeballs, and a chewing motion
of the jaws. The eyes are wide open, and their pupils
dilated. If the man happens to be in a place to which
he is accustomed, he walks about as usual ; but, if he is
in a new place, or if obstacles are intentionally placed in
his way, he stumbles gently against them, stops, and then,
feeling over the objects with his hands, passes on one
side of them. He offers no resistance to any change of
direction which, may be impressed upon him, or to the
forcible acceleration or retardation of his movements.
He eats, drinks, smokes, walks about, dresses and un-
dresses himself, rises and goes to bed at the accustomed
hours. Nevertheless, pins may be run into his body, or
strong electric shocks sent through it, without causing
the least indication of pain ; no odorous substance, pleas-
ant or unpleasant, makes the least impression; he eats
and drinks with avidity whatever is offered, and takes
asaf oetida, or vinegar, or quinine, as readily as water ; no
noise affects him ; and light influences him only under
certain conditions. Dr. Mesnet remarks, that the sense
of touch alone seems to persist, and indeed to be more
acute and delicate than in the normal state ; and it is by
means of the nerves of touch, almost exclusively, that
his organism Is brought into relation with the external
world. Here a difficulty arises. It is clear from the
facts detailed, that the nervous apparatus by which, in
the normal state, sensations of touch are excited, is that

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 233

by which external influences determine the movements
of the body, in the abnormal state. But does the state
of consciousness, which we term a tactile sensation,
accompany the operation of this nervous apparatus in the
abnormal state ? or is consciousness utterly absent, the
man being reduced to an insensible mechanism ?

It is impossible to obtain direct evidence in favour
of the one conclusion or the other ; all that can be said
is, that the case of the frog shows that the man may be
devoid of any kind of consciousness,

A further difficult problem is this. The man is in-
sensible to sensory impressions made through the ear,
the nose, the tongue, and, to a great extent, the eye ; nor
is he susceptible of pain from causes operating during
his abnormal state. Nevertheless, it is possible so to act
upon his tactile apparatus, as to give rise to those mo-
lecular changes in his sensorium, which are ordinarily
the causes of associated trains of ideas. I give a strik-
ing example of this process in Dr. Mesnet's words :

" II se promenait dans le jardin, sous un massif d'arbres, on ltd
remet a la main sa canne qu'il avait Iaiss6 tomber quelques minutes
avant. II la palpe, promdne d plusieurs reprises la main sur la
poignee coud6e de sa canne devient attentif semble prater Toreille
et, tout-a-coup, appelle 'Henri! ' Puis, 4 Les voilaJ Us sont an
moins une yingtaine I d nons deux, nous en viendrons a bout! ' Et
alors portant la main derri&re son dos comme pour prendre une car-
touche, il fait le mouvement de charger son arme, se couche dans
Therbe & plat ventre, la tete cach<e par un arbre, dans la position
d'un tirailleur, et suit, Panne epautee, tous les mouvements de Ten-
nemi qtfil croit voir & courte distance."

In a subsequent abnormal period. Dr. Mesnet caused

234: ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

the patient to repeat this scene by placing him in the
same conditions. Now, in this case, the question arises
whether the series of actions constituting this singular
pantomime was accompanied by the ordinary states of
consciousness, the appropriate train of ideas, or not?
Did the man dream that he was skirmishing? or was
he in the condition of one of Yaucauson's automata
a senseless mechanism worked by molecular changes in
his nervous system 2 The analogy of the frog shows that
the latter assumption is perfectly justifiable.

The ex-sergeant has a good voice, and had, at one
time, been employed as a singer at a cafe. In one of
his abnormal states he was observed to begin humming
a tune. He then went to his room, dressed himself care-
fully, and took up some parts of a periodical novel, which
lay on his bed, as if he were trying to find something.
Dr. Mesnet, suspecting that he was seeking his music,
made up one of these into a roll and put it into his hand.
He appeared satisfied, took up his cane and went down-
stairs to the door. Here Dr. Mesnet turned him round,
and he walked quite contentedly, in the opposite direc-
tion, towards the room of the concierge. The light of
the sun shining through a window now happened to fall
upon him, and seemed to suggest the footlights of the
stage on which he was accustomed to make his appear-
ance. He stopped, opened his roll of imaginary music,
put himself into the attitude of a singer, and sang, with
perfect execution, three songs, one after the other. After
which he wiped his face with his handkerchief and drank,

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 235

without a grimace, a tumbler of strong vinegar and water
wMcli was put into Ms hand.

An experiment winch may be performed upon the
frog deprived of the fore part of its brain, well known
as Goltz's " Quak-versuch," affords a parallel to this per-
formance. If the skin of a certain part of the back of
such a frog is gently stroked with the finger, it imme-
diately croaks. It never croaks unless it is so stroked,
and the croak always follows the stroke, just as the
sound of a repeater follows the touching of the spring.
In the frog, this " song " is innate so to speak d priori
and depends upon a mechanism in the brain governing
the vocal apparatus, which is set at work by the mo-
lecular change set up in the sensory nerves of the skin
of the back by the contact of a foreign body.

In man there is also a vocal mechanism, and the cry
of an infant is in the same sense innate and a priori^
inasmuch as it depends on an organic relation between
its sensory nerves and the nervous mechanism which
governs the vocal apparatus. Learning to speak, and
learning to sing, are processes by which the vocal mech-
anism is set to new tunes. A song which has been
learned has its molecular equivalent, which potentially
represents it in the brain, just as a musical box wound
up potentially represents an overture. Touch the stop
and the overture begins ; send a molecular impulse along
the proper afferent nerve and the singer begins his song.

Again, the manner in which the frog, though appar-
ently insensible to light, is yet, under some circumstances,

236 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

influenced by visual images, finds a singular parallel in
the case of the ex-sergeant.

Sitting at a table, in one of his abnormal states, he
took up a pen, felt for paper and ink, and began to
write a letter to his general, in which he recommended
himself for a medal, on account of his good conduct
and courage. It occurred to Dr. Mesnet to ascertain
experimentally how far vision was concerned in this act
of writing. He therefore interposed a screen between
the man's eyes and his hands ; under these circumstances
he went on writing for a short time, but the words be-
came illegible, and he finally stopped, without manifest-
ing any discontent. On the withdrawal of the screen
he began to write again where he had left off. The sub-
stitution of water for ink in the inkstand had a similar
result. lie stopped, looked at his pen, wiped it on his
coat, dipped it in the water, and began again, with the
same effect.

On one occasion, he began to write upon the top-
most of ten superimposed sheets of paper. After he
had written a line or two, this sheet was suddenly drawn
away. There was a slight expression of surprise, but he
continued his letter on the second sheet exactly as if it
had been the first. This operation was repeated five
times, so that the fifth sheet contained nothing but the
writer's signature at the bottom of the page. Never-
theless, when the signature was finished, his eyes ttirned
to the top of the blank sheet, and he wont through the
form of reading over what ho had written, a movement

AOTMAL AUTOMATISM. 237

of the lips accompanying each word ; moreover, with Ms
pen, he put in such corrections as were needed, in that
part of the blank page which, corresponded with the
position of the words which required correction, in the
sheets which had been taken away. If the five sheets
had been transparent, therefore, they would, when super-
posed, have formed a properly written and corrected
letter.

Immediately after he had written his letter, F

got up, walked down to the garden, made himself a
cigarette, lighted and smoked it. He was about to pre-
pare another, but sought in vain for his tobacco-pouch,
which had been purposely taken away. The pouch was
now thrust before his eyes and put under his nose, but
he neither saw nor smelt it; but, when it was placed
in his hand, he at once seized it, made a fresh cigar-
ette, and ignited a match to light the latter. The match
was blown out, and another lighted match placed close
before his eyes, but he made no attempt to take it;
and, if his cigarette was lighted for him, he made no
attempt to smoke. All this time the eyes were vacant,
and neither winked, nor exhibited any contraction of the
pupils. Erom these and other experiments, Dr. Mesnet
draws the conclusion that his patient sees some things
and not others ; that the sense of sight is accessible to
all things which are brought into relation with him by
the sense of touch, and, on the contrary, insensible to
things which lie outside this relation. He sees tie match
he holds, and does not see any other.

238 AOTMAL AUTOMATISM.

Just so the frog "sees" the book which is in the way
of his jump, at the same time that isolated visual im-
pressions take no effect upon him.*

As I have pointed out, it is impossible to prove that

F is absolutely unconscious in his abnormal state,

but it is no less impossible to prove the contrary ; and
the case of the frog goes a long way to justify the
assumption that, in the abnormal state, the man is a
mere insensible machine.

If such facts as these had come under the knowl-

* Those who have had occasion to become acquainted with the phe-
nomena of somnambulism and of mesmerism, will be struck with the close
parallel which they present to the proceedings of P. in his abnormal state.
But the great value of Dr. Mesnct's observations lies in the fact that the
abnormal condition is traceable to a definite injury to the brain, and that
the circumstances are such as to keep ns clear of the cloud of voluntary
and involuntary fictions in which the truth is too often smothered in such
cases. In the unfortunate subjects of such abnormal conditions of the
brain, the disturbance of the sensory and intellectual faculties is not unfre-
quently accompanied by a perturbation of the moral nature, which may
manifest itself in a most astonishing love of lying for its own sake. And,
in this respect, also, P.'s case is singularly instructive, for though, in his
normal state, he is a perfectly honest man, in his abnormal condition he is
an inveterate thief, stealing and hiding away whatever he can lay hands on,
with much dexterity, and with an absurd indifference as to whether the
property is his own or not. Hoffman's terrible conception of the " Doppelt-
ganger " is realised by men in this state who live two lives, in the one of
which they may be guilty of the moat criminal acts, while, in the other,
they are eminently virtuous and respectable. Neither life knows anything
of the other. Dr. Mesnet states that he has watched a man in his abnor-
mal state elaborately prepare to hang himself, and has let him go oa until
asphyxia set in, when he cut him down. But on passing into the normal
state the would-be suicide was wholly ignorant of what had happened. The
problem of responsibility is here as complicated as that of the prince-
bishop, who swore as a prince and not as a bishop, ** But, highness, if the
prince is damned, what will become of the bishop f ' said the peasant*

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 239

edge of Descartes, would they not have formed an apt
commentary upon that remarkable passage in the " Traite
de THomme," which I have quoted elsewhere,* tut
which is worth repetition?

"All the functions which I have attributed to this machine (the
"body), as the digestion of food, the pulsation of the heart and of the
arteries; the nutrition and the growth of the limbs; respiration,
wakefulness, and sleep; the reception of light, sounds, odours, fla-
vours, heat, and such like qualities, in the organs of the external
senses ; the impression of the ideas of these in the organ of com-
mon sensation and in the imagination ; the retention or the impres-
sion of these ideas on the memory ; the internal movements of the
appetites and the passions ; and lastly the external movements of all
the limbs, which follow so aptly, as well the action of the objects
which are presented to the senses, as the impressions which meet in
the memory, that they imitate as nearly as possible those of area!
man ; I desire, I say, that yon should consider that these functions
in the machine naturally proceed from the mere arrangement of its
organs, neither more nor less than do the movements of a clock, or
other automaton, from that of its weights and its wheels ; so that,
so far as these are concerned, it is not necessary to conceive any-
other vegetative or sensitive soul, nor any other principle of motion
or of life, than the blood and the spirits agitated by the fire which
burns continually in the heart, and which is no wise essentially dif-
ferent from all the fires which, exist in inanimate bodies."

And would Descartes not have been justified in asking
why we need deny that animals are machines, when
men, in a state of unconsciousness, perform, mechanic-
ally, actions as complicated and as seemingly rational as
those of any animals?

But though I do not think that Descartes' hypothesis
can "be positively refuted, I am not disposed to accept
it.* The doctrine of continuity is too well established

* " Lay Sermons, Essays and Eeviews," p. 355.
11

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

for it to be permissible to me to suppose that any com-
plex natural phenomenon comes into existence suddenly,
and without being preceded by simpler modifications ;
and very strong arguments would be needed to prove
that such complex phenomena, as those of conscious-
ness, first make their appearance in man. We know,
that, in the individual man, consciousness grows from a
dim glimmer to its full light, whether we consider the
infant advancing in years, or the adult emerging from
slumber and swoon. "We know, further, that the lower
animals possess, though less developed, that part of the
brain which we have every reason to believe to be the
organ of consciousness in man ; and as, in other cases,
function and organ are proportional, so we have a right
to conclude it is with the brain; and that the brutes,
though they may not possess our intensity of conscious-
ness, and though, from the absence of language, they
can have no trains of thoughts, b\it only trains of feel-
ings, yet have a consciousness which, more or less dis-
tinctly, foreshadows our own.

I confess that, in view of the struggle for existence
which goes on in the animal world, and of the fright-
ful quantity of pain with which it must be accompanied,
I should be glad if the probabilities were in favour of
Descartes' hypothesis ; but, on the other hand, consider-
ing the terrible practical consequences to domestic ani-
mals which might ensue from any error on our part, it
is as well to err on the right side, if we err at all, and
deal with them as weaker brethren, who are bound, like

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

the rest of ns, to pay their toll for living, and suffer
what is needful for the general good. As Hartley finely
says, "We seem to be in the place of God to them;"
and we may justly follow the precedents He sets in
nature in our dealings with them.

But though we may see reason to disagree with Des-
cartes' hypothesis that brutes are unconscious machines,
it does not follow that he was wrong in regarding them
as automata. They may be more or less conscious, sen-
sitive, automata; and the view that they are such con-
scious machines is that which is implicitly, or explicitly,
adopted by most persons. "When we speak of the ac-
tions of the lower animals being guided by instinct and
not by reason, what we really mean is that, though they
feel as we do, yet their actions are the results of their
physical organisation. We believe, in short, that they are
machines, one part of which (the nervous system) not
only sets the rest in motion, and co-ordinates its move-
ments in relation with changes in surrounding bodies,
but is provided with special apparatus, the function of
which is the calling into existence of those states of con-
sciousness which are termed sensations, emotions, and
ideas. I believe that this generally accepted view is
the best expression of the facts at present known.

It is experimentally demonstrable any one who cares
to run a pin into himself may perform a sufficient dem-
onstration of the fact that a mode of motion of the
nervous system is the immediate antecedent of a state
of consciousness. All but the adherents of " Occasion-

242 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

alism," or of the doctrine of "Pre-established Har-
mony" (if any such now exist), must admit that we
have as much reason for regarding the mode of motion
of the nervous system as the cause of the state of con-
sciousness, as we have for regarding any event as the
cause of another. How the one phenomenon causes the
other we know, as much or as little, as in any other case
of causation ; but we have as much right to believe that
the sensation is an effect of the molecular change, as we
have to believe that motion is an effect of impact ; and
there is as much propriety in saying that the brain
evolves sensation, as there is in saying that an iron rod,
when hammered, evolves heat.

As I have endeavoured to show, we are justified in
supposing that something analogous to what happens in
ourselves takes place in the brutes, and that the affec-
tions of their sensory nerves give rise to molecular
changes in the brain, which again give rise to, or evolve,
the corresponding states of consciousness. Nor can there
be any reasonable doubt that the emotions of brutes, and
such ideas as they possess, are similarly dependent upon
molecular brain changes. Each sensory impression leaves
"behind a record in the structure of the brain an " idea-
genous" molecule, so to speak, winch is competent, tin-
der certain conditions, to reproduce, in a fainter condi-
tion, the state of consciousness which corresponds with
that sensory impression; and it is these "ideagenous
molecules 3 ' which are the physical basis of memory.

It may "be assumed, then, that molecular changes in

AOTMAL AUTOMATISM.

the brain are tlie causes of all the states of conscious-
ness of brutes. Is there any evidence that these states
of consciousness may, conversely, cause those molecular
changes which give rise to muscular motion? I see no
such evidence. The frog walks, hops, swims, and goes
through his gymnastic performances quite as well with-
out consciousness, and consequently without volition, as
with it ; and, if a frog, in his natural state, possesses any-
thing corresponding with what we call volition, there is
no reason to think that it is anything but a concomi-
tant of the molecular changes in the brain which form
part of the series involved in the production of mo-
tion.

The consciousness of brutes would appear to be re-
lated to the mechanism of their body simply as a col-
lateral product of its working, and to be as completely
without any power of modifying that working as the
steam-whistle which accompanies the work of a locomo-
tive engine is without influence upon its machinery.
Their volition, if they have any, is an emotion indica-
tive of , physical changes, not a cause of such changes.

This conception of the relations of states of con-
sciousness with molecular changes in the brain of psy-
choses with neicroses does not prevent us from ascrib-
ing free will to brutes. For an agent is free when
there is nothing to prevent him from doing that which
he desires to do. If a greyhound chases a hare, he is
a free agent, because his action is in entire accordance
with his strong desire to catch the hare ; while so long

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

as lie is held back by the leash he is not free, being
prevented by external force from following his inclina-
tion, And the ascription of freedom to the greyhound
under the former circumstances is by no means incon-
sistent with the other aspect of the facts of the case
that he is a machine impelled to the chase, and caused,
at the same time, to have the desire to catch the game
by the impression which the rays of light proceeding
from the hare make upon his eyes, and through them,
upon his brain.

Much ingenious argument has, at various times, been
bestowed npon the question : How is it possible to im-
agine that volition, which is a state of consciousness,
and, as such, has not the slightest community of nature
with matter in motion, can act upon the moving matter
of which the body is composed, as it is assumed to do
in voluntary acts ? But if, as is here suggested, the
voluntary acts of brutes or, in other words, the acts
which they desire to perform are as purely mechanical
as the rest of their actions, and are simply accompanied
by the state of consciousness called volition, the inquiry,
so far as they are concerned, becomes superfluous. Their
volitions do not enter into the chain of causation of their
actions at all.

The hypothesis that brutes are conscious automata
is perfectly consistent with any view that may be held
respecting the often discussed and curious question
whether they have souls or not ; and, if they have souls,
whether those souls are immortal or not. It is obvioiisly

ANIEAL AUTOMATISM.

harmonious with the most literal adherence to the text
of Scripture concerning " the beast that perishetli ; " but
it is not inconsistent with the amiable eoiivietion as-
cribed by Pope to his "untutored savage/ 3 that when
he passes to the happy hunting-grounds in the sky, " Ms
faithful dog shall bear him company, 39 If the brutes
have consciousness and no souls, then it is clear that, in
them, consciousness is a direct function of material
changes; while, if they possess immaterial subjects of
consciousness, or souls, then, as consciousness is brought
into existence only as the consequence of molecular mo-
tion of the brain, it follows that it is an indirect product
of material changes. The soul stands related to the
body as the bell of a clock to the works, and conscious-
ness answers to the sound which, the bell gives out when
it is struck.

Thus far I have strictly confined myself to the prob-
lem with which I proposed to deal at starting the au-
tomatism of brutes. The question is, I believe, a per-
fectly open one, and I feel happy in running no risk of
either Papal or Presbyterian condemnation for the views
which I have ventured to put forward. And there are
so very few interesting questions which one is, at pres-
ent, allowed to think out scientifically to go as far as
reason leads, and stop where evidence comes to an end
without speedily being deafened by the tattoo of "the
drum ecclesiastic" that I have luxuriated in my rare
freedom, and would now willingly bring this disquisition
to an end if I could hope that other people would go

246 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

no farther. Unfortunately, past experience debars me
from entertaining any such hope, even if

" that drum's discordant sound

Parading round and round and round, 1 '

were not, at present, as audible to me, as it was to the
mild poet who ventured to express his hatred of drums
in general, in that well-known couplet.

It will be said, that I mean that the conclusions de-
duced from the study of the brutes are applicable to
man, and that the logical consequences of such applica-
tion are fatalism, materialism, and atheism whereupon
the drums will beat the pas de charge.

One does not do battle with drummers; but I ven-
ture to offer a few remarks for the calm consideration of
thoughtful persons, untrammelled by foregone conclu-
sions, unpledged to shore-up tottering dogmas, and anx-
ious only to know the true bearings of the case.

It is quite true that, to the best of my judgment, the
argumentation which applies to brutes holds equally
good of men ; and, therefore, that all states of conscious-
ness in us, as in them, are immediately caused by mo-
lecular changes of the brain-substance. It seems to me
that in men, as in brutes, there is no proof that any
state of consciousness is the cause of change in. the mo-
tion of the matter of the organism. If these positions
are well based, it follows that our mental conditions are
simply the symbols in consciousness of the changes
which take place automatically in the organism; and
that, to take an extreme illustration, the feeling we call

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM, 217

volition is not the cause of a voluntary act, but the sym-
bol of that state of the brain which is the immediate
cause of that act. We are conscious automata, endowed
with free will in the only intelligible sense of that much-
abused term inasmuch as in many respects we are able
to do as we like but none the less parts of the great
series of causes and effects which, in unbroken continuity,
composes that which is, and has been, and shall be the
sum of existence.

As to the logical consequences of this conviction of
mine, I may be permitted to remark that logical con-
sequences are the scarecrows of fools and the beacons of
wise men. The only question which any wise man can
ask himself, and which any honest man will ask himself,
is whether a doctrine is true or false* Consequences
will take care of themselves ; at most their importance
can only justify us in testing with extra care the reason-
ing process from which they result.

So that if the view I have taken did really and logic-
ally lead to fatalism, materialism, and atheism, I should
profess myself a fatalist, materialist, and atheist; and
I should look upon those who, while they believed in
my honesty of purpose and intellectual competency,
should raise a hue and cry against me ? as people who
by their own admission preferred lying to truth, and
whose opinions therefore were unworthy of the smallest
attention.

But, as I have endeavoured to explain on other occa-
sions, I really have no claim to rank myself among fatal-

248 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

istic, materialistic, or atheistic philosophers. Not among
fatalists, for I take the conception of necessity to have a
logical, and not a physical foundation ; not among ma-
terialists, for I am utterly incapable of conceiving the
existence of matter if there is no mind in which to pic-
ture that existence; not among atheists, for the prob-
lem of the ultimate cause of existence is one which
seems to me to be hopelessly out of reach of my poor
powers. Of all the senseless babble I have ever Lad
occasion to read, the demonstrations of these philosophers
who undertake to tell us all about the nature of God
would be the worst, if they were not surpassed by the
still greater absurdities of the philosophers who try to
prove that there is no God.

And if this personal disclaimer should not be enough,
let me further point out that a great many persons whose
acuteness and learning will not be contested, and whose
Christian piety, and, in some cases, strict orthodoxy, are
above suspicion, have held more or less definitely the
view that man is a conscious automaton.

It is held, for example, in substance, by the whole
school of predestinarian theologians, typified by St. Au-
gustine, Calvin, and Jonathan Edwardsthe great work
of the latter on the will showing in this, as in other
cases, that the growth of physical science has introduced
no new difficulties of principle into theological problems,
but has merely given visible body, as it were, to those
which already existed.

Among philosophers, the pious Goulincx and the

ANIMAL AUTOMATISM. 249

whole school of oecasionalist Cartesians held this view ;
the orthodox Leibnitz invented the term " automate
spiritual," and applied it to man ; the fervent Christian,
Hartley, was one of the chief advocates and test exposi-
tors of the doctrine ; while another zealous apologist of
Christianity in a sceptical age, and a contemporary of
Hartley, Charles Bonnet, the Genevese naturalist, has
embodied the doctrine in language of such precision and
simplicity, that I will quote the little-known passage of
his "Essai de Psycliologie " at length :

u ANOTHEK HYPOTHESIS cosrcEBimsrG- THE MECHAKISM OF IDEAS.

u Philosophers accustomed to judge of things "by that which they
are in themselves, and not by their relation to received ideas, would
not he shocked if they met with the proposition that the soul is a
mere spectator of the movements of its hody : that the latter per-
forms of itself all that series of actions which constitutes life : that
it moves of itself; that it is the hody alone which reproduces ideas,
compares and arranges them ; which forms reasonings, imagines and
executes plans of all lands, etc. This hypothesis, though perhaps
of an excessive holdness, nevertheless deserves some consideration.

" It is not to he denied that Supreme Power could create an au-
tomaton which should exactly imitate all the external and internal
actions of man.

" I understand hy external actions, all those movements which
pass under our eyes; I term internal actions, all the motions
which in the natural state cannot he observed because they take
place in the interior of the body such as the movements of diges-
tion, circulation, sensation, etc. Moreover, I include in this cate-
gory the movements which give rise to ideas, whatever be their
nature.

" In the automatou which we are considering everything would
be precisely determined. Everything would occur according to the
rules of the most admirable mechanism: one state would succeed

* " Essai de Psychologic," chap, xxvii.

250 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

another state, one operation would lead to another operation, ac-
cording to invariable laws ; motion would become alternately cause
and effect, effect and cause ; reaction would answer to action, and
reproduction to production.

" Constructed with definite relations to the activity of the beings
which compose the world, the automaton would receive impressions
from it, and, in faithful correspondence thereto, it would execute a
corresponding series of motions.

" Indifferent towards any determination, it would yield equally
to all, if the first impressions did not, so to speak, wind up the ma-
chine and decide its operations and its course.

u The series of movements which this automaton could execute
would distinguish it from all others formed on the same model,
but which, not having been placed in similar circumstances, would
not have experienced tho same impressions, or would not have ex-
perienced thorn in the same order.

u Tho senses of the automaton, set in motion by the objects pre-
sented to it, would communicate their motion to the brain, the
chief motor apparatus of tho machine. This would put in action
the muscles of tho hands and foot, in virtue of their secret connec-
tion with tho senses. Those muscles, alternately contracted and
dilated, would approximate or remove tho automaton from the ob-
jects, in the relation which they would boar to the conservation or
the destruction of tho machine,

" Tho motions of perception and sensation which tho objects
would have impressed on tho brain, would be preserved in it by the
energy of its mechanism. Thoy would become more vivid accord-
ing to the actual condition of tho automaton, considered in itsolf
and relatively to the objects.

u Words being only the motions impressed on the organ of hear-
ing and that of voice, tho diversity of these movements, their com-
bination, the order in which they would succeed one another, would
represent judgments, reasoning, and all tho operations of the mind.

" A close correspondence between the organs of the senses, either
by tho opening into one another of their nervous ramifications, or
by interposed springs (ressort^ would establish such a connection in
their working, that, on the occasion of the movements impressed
on one of those organs, other movements would bo excited, or would
become more vivid in some of tho other senses.

u Give the automaton a soul which contemplates its movements,

AKEMAL AUTOMATISM. 251

which "believes itself to be the antlior of them, which, lias different
volitions on the occasion of the different movements, and yon will
on this hypothesis construct a man.

"But would this man be free? Can the feeling of our liberty,
this feeling which is so clear and so distinct and so vivid as to per-
suade ns that we are the authors of our actions, be conciliated with
this hypothesis ? If it removes the difficulty which attends the con-
ception of the action of the soul on the body, on the other hand it
leaves untouched that which meets us in endeavouring to conceive
the action of the body on the soul."

But if Leibnitz, Jonathan Edwards, and Hartley
men. who rank among the giants of the world of thought
could see no antagonism between the doctrine under
discussion and Christian orthodoxy, is it not just possible
that smaller folk may be wrong in making such a coil
about " logical consequences w ? And seeing how large
a share of this clamour is raised by the clergy of one
denomination or another, may I say, in conclusion, that
it really would be well if ecclesiastical persons would
reflect that ordination, whatever deep-seated graces it
may confer, has never been observed to be followed by
any visible increase in the learning or the logic of its
subject. Making a man a Bishop, or entrusting Mm
with the office of ministering to even the largest of
Presbyterian congregations, or setting him up to lecture
to a Ohurch congress, really does not in the smallest de-
gree augment such title to respect as his opinions may
intrinsically possess. And, when such a man presumes
on an authority which was conferred upon him for other
purposes, to sit in judgment upon matters his incompe-
tence to deal with which is patent, it is permissible to

252 ANIMAL AUTOMATISM.

ignore his sacerdotal pretensions, and to tell him, as one
would tell a mere common, unconsecrated layman : that
it is not necessary for any man to occupy himself with
problems of this kind unless he so choose ; life is filled
full enough by the performance of its ordinary and obvi-
ous duties. But that, if a man elect to become a judge
of these grave questions; still more, if he assume the
responsibility of attaching praise or blame to his fellow-
men for the conclusions at which they arrive touch-
ing them, he will commit a sin more grievous than most
breaches of the Decalogue, unless lie avoid a lazy reli-
ance upon the information that is gathered by prejudice
and filtered through passion, unless he go back to the
prime sources of knowledge the facts of nature, and
the thoughts of those wise men who for generations
past have been her best interpreters.

ON SENSATION" AND THE UNITY OF
STRUCTURE OF SENSIFEKOUS ORGANS.

THE maxim tliat metaphysical inquiries are "barren
of result, and that the serious occupation of the mind
with them is a mere waste of time and labour, finds
much favour in the eyes of the many persons who
pride themselves on the possession of sound common
sense ; and we sometimes hear it enunciated by weighty
authorities, as if its natural consequence, the suppression
of such studies, had the force of a moral obligation.

In this case, however, as in some others, those who
lay down the law seem to forget that a wise legislator
will consider, not merely whether his proposed enact-
ment is desirable, but whether obedience to it is possible.
For, if the latter question is answered negatively, the
former is surely hardly worth debate.

Here, in fact, lies the pith of the reply to those
who would make metaphysics contraband of intellect.
"Whether it is desirable to place a prohibitory duty upon
philosophical speculations or not, it is utterly impos-
sible to prevent the importation of them into the mind.
And it is not a little curious to observe that those who

254 SENSATION" AND THE SENSIFEROUS OEGANS.

most loudly profess to abstain from such commodities
are, all tlie while, unconscious consumers, on a great
scale, of one or other of their multitudinous disguises
or adulterations. "With mouths full of the particular
kind of heavily buttered toast which they affect, they
inveigh against the eating of plain bread. In truth, the
attempt to nourish the human intellect upon a diet
which contains no metaphysics is about as hopeful as
that of certain Eastern sages to nourish their bodies
without destroying life. Everybody has heard the story
of the pitiless microscopist, who ruined the peace of
mind of one of these mild enthusiasts by showing him
the animals moving in a drop of the water with which,
in the imiocency of his heart, he slaked his thirst ; and
the unsuspecting devotee of plain common sense may
look for as unexpected a shock when the magnifier of
severe logic reveals the germs, if not the full-grown
shapes, of lively metaphysical postulates rampant amidst
his most positive and matter-of-fact notions.

By way of escape from the metaphysical "Will-o'-
the-wisps generated in the marshes of literature and
theology, the serious student is sometimes bidden to
betake himself to the solid ground of physical science.
But the fish of immortal memory, who threw himself
out of the frying-pan into the fire, was not more ill
advised than the man who seeks sanctuary from philo-
sophical persecution within the walls of the observatory
or of the kboratory. It is said that " metaphysics " owe
their name to the fact that, in Aristotle's works,

SENSATION AND THE SENSIEEBOUS ORGANS. 255

tions of pure philosophy are dealt with immediately
after those of physics. If so, the accident is happily
symbolical of the essential relations of things ; for meta-
physical speculation follows as closely upon physical
theory as black care upon the horseman.

One need but mention such fundamental, and in-
deed indispensable, conceptions of the natural philoso-
pher as those of atoms and forces : or that of attraction
considered as action at a distance ; or that of potential
energy ; or the antinomies of a vacuum and a plenum ;
to call to mind the metaphysical background of physics
and chemistry ; while, in the biological sciences, the
case is still worse. "What is an individual among the
lower plants and animals? Are genera and species
realities or abstractions ? Is there such a thing as Yital
Force ? or does the name denote a mere relic of meta-
physical fetichism? Is the doctrine of final causes
legitimate or illegitimate? These are a few of the
metaphysical topics which are suggested by the most
elementary study of biological facts. But, more than
this, it may be truly said that the roots of every system
of philosophy lie deep among the facts of physiology.
No one can doubt that the organs and the functions
of sensation are as much a part of the province of
the physiologist, as are the organs and functions of
motion, or those of digestion ; and yet it is impossible
to gain an acquaintance with even the rudiments of
the physiology of sensation without being led straight
to one of the most fundamental of all metaphysical

256 SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEROUS OEGANS.

problems. In fact, the sensory operations have been,
from time immemorial, the battle-ground of philosophers.
I have more than once taken occasion to point out
that we are indebted to Descartes, who happened to be a
physiologist as well as a philosopher, for the first distinct
enunciation of the essential elements of the true theory
of sensation. In later times, it is not to the works of the
philosophers, if Hartley and James Mill are exeepted,
but to those of the physiologists, that we must turn for
an adequate account of the sensory process. Haller's
luminous, though summary, account of sensation in his
admirable "Primse Lineas, 5 ' the first edition of which
was printed in 1747, offers a striking contrast to the
prolixity and confusion of thought which pervade Reid's
a Inquiry," of seventeen years' later date.* x ~ Even Sir
William Hamilton, learned historian and acute critic as
he was, not only failed to apprehend the philosophical
bearing of long-established physiological truths ; but,
when he affirmed that there is no reason to deny that the
mind feels at the finger points, and none to assert that
the brain is the sole organ of thought, f he showed that

* In justice to Reid, however, it should be stated that the chapters on
sensation in the " Essays on the Intellectual Powers " (1788) exhibit a great
improvement. lie is, in fact, in advance of his commentator, as the note
to Essay II. chap. ii. p. 248 of Hamilton's edition shows.

f Ilaller, amplifying Descartes, writes in the " Primas Lincsa," OOOLXVI.
- ** JSToa est adeo obscurum sensum omnem oriri ab objecti sensibilis im-
presaione In nervum quemeumque corporis humani, et earadcm per cum
nervum ad cerebrum perveinentem tune demum represontari animss, quando
cerebrum adtigit. tjt etiam hoc falsum ait animam inproxitno per sensoria
nervorumque ramos aentiro," . . . BLVIL '"Bum ergo sentimuB quinque
diversiasima entia conjunguntur; corpus quod sentimus: organ! sensorii

SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEEOUS OEGANS. 257

he had not apprehended the significance of the revolu-
tion commenced, two hundred years before his time, by
Descartes, and effectively followed up by Haller, Hart-
ley, and Bonnet, in the middle of the last century.

In truth, the theory of sensation, except in one point,
is, at the present moment, very much where Hartley, led
by a hint of Sir Isaac ^Newton's, left it, when, a hundred
and twenty years since, the " Observations on Man : his
Frame, his Duty, and his Expectations," was laid before
the world. The whole matter is put in a nutshell in the
following passages of this notable book.

" External objects impressed upon the senses occasion, first on
the nerves on which they are impressed, and then on the brain,
vibrations of the small and, as we may say, infinitesimal medullary
particles.

" These vibrations are motions backwards and forwards of the
small particles ; of the same kind with the oscillations of pendulums
and the tremblings of the particles of sounding bodies. They must
be conceived to be exceedingly short and small, so as not to have
the least efficacy to disturb or move the whole bodies of the nerves
or brain." *

" The white medullary substance of the brain is also the imme-
diate instrument by which ideas are presented to the mind ; or, in
other words, whatever changes are made in this substance, corre-
sponding changes are made in our ideas ; and vice versa." f

adfectio ab eo corpore: cerebri adfectio a sensorii percussione nata: in
anima nata mutatio : anirase denique conscieniaa et sensationis adperceptio."
Nevertheless, Sir William Hamilton gravely informs Ms hearers : " We
have no more right to deny that the mind feels at the finger points, as con-
sciousness assures us, than to assert that it thinks exclusively in tne brain."
" Lecture on Metaphysics and Logic," ii. p. 128. " We have no reason
whatever to doubt the report of consciousness, that we actually perceive at
the external point of sensation, and that we perceive the material reality."
Ibid, p. 129. * " Observations on Man," vol. i. p. 11.

f Ibid. p. 8. The speculations of Bonnet are remarkably similar to

258 SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEBOU8 ORGANS.

Hartley, like Haller, had no conception of the nature
and functions of the grey matter of the brain. But, if
for " white medullary substance," in the latter paragraph,
we substitute "grey cellular substance," Hartley's propo-
sitions embody the most probable conclusions which are
to be drawn from the latest investigations of physiolo-
gists. In order to judge how completely this is the case,
it will be well to study some simple case of sensation,
and, following the example of Keid and of James Mill,
we may begin with the sense of smell. Suppose that I
become aware of a musky scent, to which the name of
" muskiness J? may be given. I call this an odour, and I
class it along with the feelings of light, colours, sounds,
tastes, and the like, among those phenomena which are
known as sensations. To say that I am aware of this
phenomenon, or that I have it, or that it exists, are
simply different modes of affirming the same facts. If I
am asked how I know that it exists, I can only reply that
its existence and my knowledge of it are one and the
same thing ; in short, that my knowledge is immediate
or intuitive, and, as such, is possessed of the highest con-
ceivable degree of certainty.

The pure sensation of muskiness is almost sure to be
followed by a mental state which is not a sensation, but a
"belief, that there is somewhere close at hand a something
on which the existence of the sensation depends. It may

those of Hartley ; and they appear to have originated independently, though
the"Essai de Psychologic' 1 (1754) is of five years' later date than the
" Observations on Man" (1740).

SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEROUS ORGANS. 259

be a musk-deer, or a musk-rat, or a musk-plant, or a grain
of dry musk, or simply a scented handkerchief ; but
former experience leads us to believe that the sensation
is due to the presence of one or other of these objects,
and that it will vanish if the object is removed. In
other words, there arises a belief in an external cause of
the muskiness, which, in common language, is termed an
odorous body.

But the manner in which this belief is usually put
into words is strangely misleading. If we are dealing
with a musk-plant, for example, we do not confine our-
selves to a simple statement of that which we believe,
and say that the musk-plant is the cause of the sensation
called muskiness ; but we say that the plant has a musky
smell, and we speak of the odour as a quality, or prop-
erty, inherent in the plant. And the inevitable reaction
of words upon thought has in this case become so com-
plete, and has penetrated so deeply, that when an ac-
curate statement of the case namely, that muskiness,
inasmuch as the term denotes nothing but a sensation, is
a mental state, and has no existence except as a mental
phenomenon is first brought under the notice of com-
mon-sense folks, it is usually regarded by them as what
they are pleased to call a mere metaphysical paradox and
a patent example of useless subtlety. Tet the slightest
reflection must suffice to convince any one possessed of
sound reasoning faculties, that it is as absurd to suppose
that muskiness is a quality inherent in one plant, as it
would be to imagine that pain is a quality inherent in

260 SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEROUS ORGANS.

another, because we feel pain when a thorn pricks the
finger.

Even the common-sense philosopher, par excellence^
says of smell : " It appears to be a simple and original
affection or feeling of the mind, altogether inexplicable
and unaccountable. It is indeed impossible that it can
be in any body : it is a sensation, and a sensation can
only be in a sentient thing. 5 ' *

That which is true of musldncss is true of every
other odour. Lavender-smell, clove-smell, garlic-smell,
are, like " nmskiness," names of states of consciousness,
and have no existence except as such. But, in ordinary
language, we speak of all these odours as if they were
independent entities residing in lavender, cloves, and
garlic ; and it is not without a certain straggle that the
false metaphysic of so-called common sense, thus in-
grained in us, is expelled.

For the present purpose, it is unnecessary to inquire
into the origin of our belief in external bodies, or into
that of the notion of causation. Assuming the existence
of an external world, there is no difficulty in obtaining
experimental proof that, as a general rule, olfactory sen-

* " An Inquiry into the Human Mind on the Principles of Common
Sense," chap. ii. 2. Reid affirms that " it is genius, and not the want of
it, that adulterates philosophy, and fills it with error and fatao theory ; n
and no doubt Inn own lucubrations are free from the smallest taint of the
impurity to which he objects. But, for want of something more than that
sort of "common sense," which is very common and a little dull, the con-
temner of genius did not notice that the admission here made knocks so big
a hole iu the bottom of u common sense philosophy," that nothing can save
it from foundering in the dreaded abyss of Idealism,

SENSATION AND THE SE2TSIFEROUS OBGAXS.

sations are caused by odorous bodies ; and we may pass
on to the next step of the inquiry namely, how the
odorous body produces the effect attributed to it.

The first point to be noted here is another fact re-
vealed by experience ; that the appearance of the sensa-
tion is governed, not only by the presence of the odorous
substance, but by the condition of a certain part of our
corporeal structure, the nose. If the nostrils are closed,
the presence of the odorous substance does not give rise
to the sensation ; while, when they are open, the sensa-
tion is intensified by the approximation of the odorous
substance to them, and by snuffing up the adjacent air in
such a manner as to draw it into the nose. On the other
hand, looking at an odorous substance, or rubbing it on
the skin, or holding it to the ear, does not awaken the
sensation. Thus, it can be readily established by experi-
ment that the perviousness of the nasal passages is, in
some way, essential to the sensory function ; in fact, that
the organ of that function is lodged somewhere in the
nasal passages. And, since odorous bodies give rise to
their effects at considerable distances, the suggestion is
obvious that something must pass from them into the
sense organ. "Whafc is this " something, 33 which plays
the part of an intermediary between the odorous body
and the sensory organ?

The oldest speculation about the matter dates back
to Democritus and the Epicurean School, and it is to be
found fully stated in the fourth book of Lucretius. It
comes to this : that the surfaces of bodies are constantly

262 SENSATION AND THE SENSIEEKOUS OEG-ANS.

throwing off excessively attenuated films of their own
substance : and that these films, reaching the mind, ex-
cite the appropriate sensations in it.

Aristotle did not admit the existence of any such
material films, but conceived that it was the form of the
substance, and not its matter, which affected sense, as a
seal impresses wax, without losing anything in the pro-
cess. "While many, if not the majority, of the School-
men took up an intermediate position and supposed that
a something, which was not exactly either material or
immaterial, and which they called an " intentional spe-
cies," effected the needful communication between the
bodily cause of sensation and the mind.

But all these notions, whatever may be said for or
against them in general, are fundamentally defective, by
reason of an oversight which was inevitable, in the state
of knowledge at the time in which they were promul-
gated. What the older philosophers did not know, and
could not know, before the anatomist arid the physiolo-
gist had done their work, is that, between the external
object and that mind in which they supposed the sensa-
tion to inhere, there lies a physical obstacle. The sense
organ is not a mere passage by which the " tenuia simu-
lacra rerum," or the "intentional species" cast off by
objects, or the " forms " of sensible things, pass straight
to the mind ; oil the contrary, it stands as a firm and
impervious barrier, through which no material particle
of the world without can make its way to the world
within.

SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEBOUS ORGANS. 263

Let us consider the olfactory sense organ more near-
ly. Each of the nostrils leads into a passage completely
separated from the other by a partition, and these two
passages place the nostrils in free communication with
the back of the throat, so that they freely transmit the
air passing to the lungs when the mouth is shut, as in
ordinary breathing. The floor of each passage is flat,
bnt its roof is a high arch, the crown of which is seated
between the orbital cavities of the skull, which serve for
the lodgment and protection of the eyes ; and it there-
fore lies behind the apparent limits of that feature
which, in ordinary language, is called the nose. Erom
the side walls of the upper and back part of these arched
chambers, certain delicate plates of bone project, and
these, as well as a considerable part of the partition be-
tween the two chambers, are covered by a fine, soft,
moist membrane. It is to this " Schneiderian," or olfac-
tory, membrane that odorous bodies must obtain direct
access, if they are to give rise to their appropriate sensa-
tions ; and it is upon the relatively large surface, which
the olfactory membrane offers, that we must seek for
the seat of the organ of the olfactory sense. The only
essential part of that organ consists of a multitude of
minute rod-like bodies, set perpendicularly to the surface
of the membrane, and forming a part of the cellular
coat, or epithelium, which covers the olfactory mem-
brane, as the epidermis covers the skin. In the case
of the olfactory sense, there can be no doubt that the
Democritic hypothesis, at any rate for such odorous sub-
12

264: SENSATION" AND THE SENSIFEBOUS ORGANS.

stances as musk, lias a good foundation. Infinitesimal
particles of musk fly off the surface of the odorous body,
and, becoming diffused through the air, are carried into
the nasal passages, and thence into the olfactory cham-
bers, where they come into contact with the filamentous
extremities of the delicate olfactory epithelium.

But this is not all. The " mind " is not, so to speak,
upon the other side of the epithelium. On the contrary,
the inner ends of the olfactory cells are connected with
nerve fibres, and these nerve fibres, passing into the
cavity of the skull, at length end in a part of the brain,
the olfactory sensorium. It is certain that the integrity
of each, and the physical inter-connection of all these
three structures, the epithelium of the sensory organ, the
nerve fibres, and the sensoriura, are essential conditions
of ordinary sensation. That is to say, the air in the
olfactory chambers may bo charged with particles of
musk ; but, if cither the epithelium, or the nerve fibres,
or the sensorium is injured, or if they are physically
disconnected from one another, sensation will not arise.
Moreover, the epithelium may be said to be receptive,
the nerve fibres transmissive, and the sensorium sensi-
facicnt. For, in the act of smelling, the particles of the
odorous substance produce a molecular change (which
Hartley was in all probability right in terming a vibra-
tion) in the epithelium, and this change being trans-
mitted to the nerve fibres, parses along them with a
measurable velocity, and, finally reaching the sensorium,
is immediately followed by the sensation.

SENSATION ADD THE SEXSIFEROUS ORGANS. 265

Thus, modern investigation supplies a representative
of the Epicurean simulacra in the volatile particles of the
musk ; but it also gives us the stamp of the particles on
the olfactory epithelium, without any transmission of
matter, as the equivalent of the Aristotelian "form;"
while, finally, the modes of motion of the molecules of
the olfactory cells, of the nerve, and of the cerebral
sensorium, which are Hartley's vibrations, may stand
very well for a double of the " intentional species " of
the Schoolmen. And this last remark is not intended
merely to suggest a fanciful parallel ; for, if the cause of
the sensation is, as analogy suggests, to be sought in the
mode of motion of the object of sense, then it is quite
possible that the particular mode of motion of the
object is reproduced in the sensorium; exactly as the
diaphragm of a telephone reproduces the mode of motion
taken up at its receiving end. In other words, the
secondary " intentional species " may be 5 as the School-
men thought the primary one was, the last link between
matter and mind.

None the less, however, does it remain true that no
similarity exists, nor indeed is conceivable, between the
cause of the sensation and the sensation. Attend as
closely to the sensations of muskiness, or any other
odour, as we will, no trace of extension, resistance, or
motion is discernible in them. They have no attribute
in common with those which we ascribe to matter ; they
are, in the strictest sense of the words, immaterial entities.

Thus, the most elementary study of sensation justi*

266 SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEKOUS ORGAN'S.

fies Descartes' position, tliat we know more of mind
than we do of body; that the immaterial world is a
firmer reality than the material. For the sensation
" mnskiness " is known immediately. So long as it per-
sists, it is a part of what we call our thinking selves,
and its existence lies beyond the possibility of doubt.
The knowledge of an objective or material cause of the
sensation, on the other hand, is mediate ; it is a belief as
contradistinguished from an intuition ; and it is a belief
which, in any given instance of sensation, may, by possi-
bility, be devoid of foundation. For odours, like other
sensations, may arise from the occurrence of the appro-
priate molecular changes in the nerve or in the senso-
riurn, by the operation of a cause distinct from the
affection of the sense organ by an odorous body. Such
"subjective" sensations are as real existences as any
others, and as distinctly suggest an external odorous ob-
ject as their cause ; but the belief thus generated is a delu-
sion. And, if beliefs are properly termed " testimonies
of consciousness," then undoubtedly the testimony of
consciousness may be, and often is, untrustworthy.

Another very important consideration arises out of
the facts as they are now known. That which, ia the
absence of a knowledge of the physiology of sensation,
we call the cause of the smell, and term tlio odorous
object, is only such, mediately, by reason of its emitting
particles which give rise to a mode of motion in the
sense organ. The sense organ, again, is only a mediate
cause by, reason of its producing a molecular change in

SENSATION" AND THE SENSIEEEOUS OEGANS. 267

the nerve fibre; while this last change is also only a
mediate eanse of sensation, depending, as it does, upon
the change which it excites in the sensorium.

The sense organ, the nerve, and the sensorium, taken
together, constitute the sensiferous apparatus. They
make up the thickness of the wall between the mind,
as represented by the sensation muskiness," and the
object, as represented by the particle of musk in contact
with the olfactory epithelium.

It will be observed that the sensiferous wall and the
external world are of the same nature; whatever it is
that constitutes them both is expressible in terms of
matter and motion. "Whatever changes take place in the
sensiferous apparatus are continuous with, and similar to,
those which take place in the external world.* But,

* The following diagrammatic scheme may help to elucidate the theory

of sensation :

Mediate Knowledge

-^ Immediate

Sensiferous Apparatus Knowledge

Objects of Sense

Eeceptive Transmissive Sensificatory
(Sense Organ) (Nerve) (Sensorium)

Sensations and
other States of
Consciousness

Hypothetical
Substance of
Matter

Hypothetical
Substance of
Mind

Physical World

Mental World

Not Self

Self

Non-Ego or Object

Ego or Subject

Immediate knowledge is confined to states of consciousness, or, in other
words, to the phenomena of mind. Knowledge of the physical world, or
of one's own body and of objects external to it, is a system of beliefs or

268 SEKSATION" AN"D THE SEFSIFEROUS OKGAS.

with, the sensorium, matter and motion come to an end ;
while phenomena of another order, or immaterial states
of consciousness, make their appearance. How is the
relation between the material and the immaterial phe-
nomena to be conceived ? This is the metaphysical prob-
lem of problems, and the solutions which have been
suggested have been made the corner-stones of systems
of philosophy. Three mutually irreconcilable readings
of the riddle have been offered.

The first is, that an immaterial substance of mind
exists ; and that it is affected by the mode of motion
of the sensorium in such, a way as to give rise to the
sensation.

The second is, that the sensation is a direct effect of
the mode of motion of the sensorium, brought about
without the intervention of any substance of mind.

The third is, that tlie sensation Is neither directly
nor indirectly an effect of tlie mode of motion of the
sensorium, but that it has an independent cause. Prop-
erly speaking, therefore, it is not an effect of the motion
of the sensorinm, but a concomitant of it.

*As none of these hypotheses is capable of even an
approximation to demonstration, it is almost needless to
remark that they have been severally held with tenacity
and advocated with passion. I clo not think it can be

judgments based on tlie sensations. The term *' self " is applied not only
to the series of mental phenomena which constitute the ego, but to the
fragment of the physical world which ia their constant concomitant. The
corporeal self, therefore, is part of the non-ego ; and is objective in rela-
tion to the ego as subject,

SENSATION" AND THE SENSIFEBOUS ORGAN'S. 269

said of any of the three that it is Inconceivable, or that
it can be assumed on d priori grounds to be impossi-
ble.

Consider the first, for example ; an immaterial sub-
stance is perfectly conceivable. In fact, it is obvious
that, if we possessed no sensations but those of smell
and hearing, we should be unable to conceive a material
substance. We might have a conception of time, but
could have none of extension, or of resistance or of mo-
tion. And without the three latter conceptions no idea
of matter could be formed. Our whole knowledge would
be limited to that of a shifting succession of immaterial
phenomena. But, if an immaterial substance may exist,
it may have any conceivable properties; and sensation
may be one of them. All these propositions may be
affirmed with complete dialectic safety, inasmuch as they
cannot possibly be disproved ; but neither can a particle
of demonstrative evidence be offered in favour of the
existence of an immaterial substance.

As regards the second hypothesis, it certainly is not
inconceivable, and therefore it may be true, that sensa-
tion is the direct effect of certain kinds of bodily motion.
It is just as easy to suppose this as to suppose, on the
former hypothesis, that bodily motion affects an imma-
terial substance. But neither is it susceptible of proof.

And, as to the third hypothesis, since the logic of
induction is in no case competent to prove that events
apparently standing in the relation of cause and effect
may not both be effects of a common cause that also is

270 SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEKOUS OEGANS.

as safe from refutation,, if as incapable of demonstration,
as the other two.

In my own opinion, neither of these speculations can
be regarded seriously as anything but a more or less
convenient working hypothesis. But, if I must choose
among them, I take the "law of parcimony" for my
guide, and select the simplest namely, that the sensa-
tion is the direct effect of the mode of motion of the
scnsorium. It may justly be said that this is not the
slightest explanation of sensation ; but then am I really
any the wiser, if I say that a sensation is an activity
(of which I know nothing) of a substance of mind (of
which also I know nothing) ? Or, if I say that the Deity
causes the sensation to arise in my mind immediately
after He has caused the particles of the seusorium to
move in a certain way, is anything gained 2 In truth, a
sensation, as we have already seen, is an intuition a
part of immediate knowledge. As such, it is an ulti-
mate fact and inexplicable ; and all that we can hope to
find out about it, and that indeed is worth finding out,
is its relation to other natural facts. That relation ap-
pears to me to be sufficiently expressed, for all practical
purposes, by saying that sensation is the invariable con-
sequent of certain changes in the sensorium or, in other
words, that, so far as we know, the change in the sen-
sorium is the cause of the sensation.

I permit myself to imagine that the untutored, if
noble, savage of " common sense ?J who has been misled
into reading thus fax by the hope of getting positive

SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEROUS OKGANS. 271

solid information about sensation, giving way to not un-
natural irritation, may here interpellate : " The upshot
of all tMs long disquisition is that we are profoundly
ignorant. We knew that to begin with, and you have
merely furnished another example of the emptiness and
uselessness of metaphysics." But I venture to reply.
Pardon me, you were ignorant, but you did not know it.
On the contrary, you thought you knew a great deal,
and were quite satisfied with the particularly absurd
metaphysical notions which you were pleased to call
the teachings of common sense. You thought that your
sensations were properties of external things, and had
an existence outside of yourself. You thought that you
knew more about material than you do about immaterial
existences. And if , as a wise man. has assured us, the
knowledge of what we don't know is the next best thing
to the knowledge of what we do know, this brief ex-
cursion into the province of philosophy has been highly
profitable.

Of all the dangerous mental habits, that which
schoolboys call " cocksureness " is probably the most '
perilous ; and the inestimable value of metaphysical dis-
cipline is that it furnishes an effectual counterpoise to
this evil proclivity. Whoso has mastered the elements
of philosophy knows that the attribute of unquestionable
certainty appertains only to the existence of a state of
consciousness so long as it exists; all other beliefs are
mere probabilities of a higher or lower order. Sound
metaphysic is an amulet which renders its possessor proof

2Y2 SENSATION AD THE SENSIFEBOUS OKGAFS.

alike against the poison of superstition and the counter-
poison of nihilism ; by showing that the affirmations of
the former and the denials of the latter alike deal with
matters about which, for lack of evidence, nothing can
be either affirmed or denied.

I have dwelt at length upon the nature and origin
of our sensations of smell, on account of the compara-
tive freedom of the olfactory sense from the complica-
tions which are met with in most of the other senses.

Sensations of taste, however, are generated in almost
as simple a fashion as those of smell. In this case, the
sense organ is the epithelium which covers the tongue
and the palate : and which sometimes, becoming modi-
fied, gives rise to peculiar organs termed "gustatory
bulbs," in which the epithelial cells elongate and as-
sume a somewhat rod-like form. Nerve fibres connect
the sensory organ witli the sensorium, and tastes or fla-
vours are states of consciousness caused by the change
of molecular state of the latter. In the case of the sense
of touch there is often no sense organ distinct from the
general epidermis. But many fishes and amphibia ex-
hibit local modifications of the epidermic cells which are
sometimes extraordinarily like the gustatory bulbs ; more
commonly, both in lower and higher animals, the effect
of the contact of external bodies is intensified by the
development of hair-like filaments, or of true hairs, the
bases of which ate in immediate relation with the ends
of the sensory nerves. Every one must have noticed the

SENSATION AND THE SENSIFBROUS ORGANS. 278

extreme delicacy o the sensations produced by the con-
tact of bodies "with the ends of the hairs of the head ;
and the "whiskers" of cats owe their functional impor-
tance to the abundant supply of nerves to the follicles
in which their bases are lodged. "What part, if any, the
so-called " tactile, corpuscles/' "end bulbs, 3 ' and"Pacini-
an bodies," play in the mechanism of touch is unknown.
If they are sense organs, they are exceptional in charac-
ter, in so far as they do not appear to be modifications
of the epidermis. Nothing is known respecting the or-
gans of those sensations of resistance which are grouped
under the head of the muscular sense ; nor of the sen-
sations of warmth and cold; nor of that very singular
sensation which we call tickling.

In the case of heat and cold, the organism not only
becomes affected by external bodies, far more remote
than those which affect the sense of smell; but the
Democritic hypothesis is obviously no longer permissi-
ble. When the direct rays of the sun fall upon the
skin, the sensation of heat is certainly not caused by
"attenuated films" thrown off from that luminary, but
is clue to a mode of motion which is transmitted to us.
In Aristotelian phrase, it is the form without the mat-
ter of the sun which stamps the sense organ ; and this,
translated into modern language, means nearly the same
thing as Hartley's vibrations. Thus we are prepared for
what happens in the case of the auditory and the visual
senses. For neither the ear, nor the eye, receives any-
thing but the impulses or vibrations originated by sonor-

274 SEFSATIOK AND THE SENSIFEROUS ORGAN'S.

ous or luminous bodies. Nevertheless, tlie receptive ap-
paratus still consists of nothing but specially modified
epithelial cells. In the labyrinth of the ear of the
higher animals, the free ends of these cells terminate
in excessively delicate hair-like filaments; while, in the
lower forms of auditory organ, its free surface is beset
with delicate hairs like those of the surface of the body,
and the transmissive nerves are connected with the bases
of these hairs. Thus there is an insensible gradation in
the forms of the receptive apparatus, from the organ of
touch, on the one hand, to those of taste and smell ; and,
on the other hand, to that of hearing. Even in the case
of the most refined of all the sense organs, that of vision,
the receptive apparatus departs but little from the gen-
eral type. Tho only essential constituent of the visual
sense organ is the retina, which forms so siiiall a part
of the eyes of the higher animals ; and the simplest eyes
are nothing but portions of the integument, in which
the cells of the epidermis have become converted into
glassy, rod4ike retinal corpuscles. The outer ends of
these are turned towards the light ; their sides are more
or less extensively coated with a dark pigment, and their
inner ends are connected with the transmissive nerve
fibres. The light, impinging on these visual rods, pro-
duces a change in them which is communicated to the
nerve fibres, and, being transmitted to the scnsorium,
gives rise to the sensation- if indeed all animals which
possess eyes are endowed with what we understand as
sensation.

SE^SATIOIS* A2TO THE SE^SIFEROUS ORGANS. 2,15

In the higher animals, a complicated apparatus of
lenses, arranged on the principle of a camera obscttra,
serves at once to concentrate and to individualise the
pencils of light proceeding from external bodies. But
the essential part of the organ of vision is still a layer
of cells, which have the form of rods with truncated or
conical ends. By what seems a strange anomaly, how-
ever, the glassy ends of these are turned not towards,
"but away from, the light ; and the latter has to traverse
the layer of nervous tissues with which their outer ends
are connected, before it can affect them. Moreover, the
rods and cones of the vertebrate retina are so deeply
seated, and in many respects so peculiar in character,
that it appears impossible, at first sight, that they can
have anything to do with that epidermis of which gus-
tatory and tactile, and at any rate the lower forms of
auditory and visual, organs are obvious modifications.

"Whatever be the apparent diversities among the sen-
siferous apparatuses, however, they share certain com-
mon characters. Each consists of a receptive, a trans-
missive, and a sensificatory portion. The essential part
of the first is an epithelium, of the second, nerve fibres,
of the third, a part of the brain ; the sensation is always
the consequence of the mode of motion excited in the
receptive, and sent along the transmissive, to the sen-
sificatory part of the sensif erous apparatus. And, in all
the senses, there is no likeness whatever between the
object of sense, which is matter in motion, and the sen-
sation, which is an immaterial phenomenon.

276 SENSATION" AND THE SENSIFEKOUS ORGANS.

On the hypothesis which appears to mo to be the
most convenient, sensation is a product of the sensifer-
ous apparatus caused by certain modes of motion which
are set up in it by impulses from without. The sensit
erons apparatuses are,, as it wore, factories, all of which
at the one end receive raw materials of a similar kind
namely, modes of motion while, at the other, each
turns out a special product, the feeling which constitutes
the kind of sensation characteristic of it.

Or, to make use of a closer comparison, each sensif-
erous apparatus is comparable to a musical-box wound
up ; with as many tunes as there are separate sensations.
The object of a simple sensation is the agent which
presses down the stop of one of these tunes, and the
more feeble the agent, the more delicate must be the
mobility of the stop.*

But, if this be true, if the recipient part of the sen-
siferous apparatus is, in all cases, merely a mechanism.
affected by coarser or finer kinds of material motion,
we might expect to find that all sense organs are funda-
mentally alike, and resiilt from the modification of the
same morphological elements. And this is exactly what
does result fi-om all recent hMological and ombryologi-
cal investigations,

It has been seen that the receptive part of the olfac-
tory apparatus is a slightly modified epithelium, which
lines an olfactory chamber deeply seated between the

* " Ohaque fibre oat xme esp&ee de touche ou de marteau dostind &
rendre un certaia ton," Bonnet, * Essal do Psychologic," chap. iv.

SENSATIOF AND THE SEFSIFEROUS OBGAFS. 277

orbits in adult human beings. But, if we trace back
the nasal chambers to their origin in the embryo, we
find, that, to begin with, they are mere depressions of
the skin of the fore part of the head, lined by a con-
tinuation of the general epidermis. These depressions
become pits, and the pits, by the growth of the adjacent
parts, gradually acquire the position which they finally
occupy. The olfactory organ, therefore, is a specially
modified part of the general integument.

The human ear would seem to present greater dif-
ficulties. For the essential part of the sense organ, in
this case, is the membranous labyrinth, a bag of com-
plicated form, which lies buried in the depths of the
floor of the skull, and is surrounded by dense and solid
bone. Here, however, recourse to the study of devel-
opment readily unravels the mystery. Shortly after the
time when the olfactory organ appears, as a depression
of the skin on the side of the fore part of the head,
the auditory organ appears as a similar depression on
the side of its back part. The depression, rapidly deep-
ening, becomes a small pouch; and then, the commu-
nication with the exterior becoming shut off, the pouch
is converted into a closed bag, the epithelial lining of
which is a part of the general epidermis segregated from
the rest. The adjacent tissues, changing first into car-
tilage and then into bone, enclose the auditory sac in a
strong case, in which it undergoes its further metamor-
phoses; while the drum, the ear bones, and the exter-
nal ear, are superadded by no less extraordinary modi-

278 SENSATION AND THE SEFSIFEEOUS ORGANS.

fications of the adjacent parts. Still more marvellous
is the history of the development of the organ of vision.
In the place of the eye, as in that of the nose and that
of the ear, the young embryo presents a depression of
the general integument; Tbnt ? in man and the higher
animals, this does not give rise to the proper sensory
organ, but only to part of the accessory structures con-
cerned in vision. In fact, this depression, deepening
and becoming converted into a shut sac, produces only
the cornea, the aqueous humour, and the crystalline lens
of the perfect eye.

The retina is added to this by the outgrowth of the
wall of a portion of the brain into a sort of bag, or sac,
with a narrow neck, the convex bottom of which is
turned outwards, or towards the crystalline lens. As
the development of the eye proceeds, the convex bot-
tom of the bag becomes pushed in, so that it gradually
obliterates the cavity of the sac, the previously convex
wall of which becomes deeply concave. The sac of
the brain is now like a double nightcap ready for the
head, but the place which the head would occupy is
taken by the vitreous humour, while the layer of night-
cap next it becomes the retina. Tine cells of this layer
which lie farthest from the vitreous humour, or, in other
words, bound tlio original cavity of the sac, arc meta-
morphosed into the rods and cones. Suppose now that
the sac of the brain could be brought back to its origi-
nal form ; then the rods and cones would form part of
the lining of a side pouch of the brain. But one of

SENSATION AKD THE SEXSIFEBOUS ORGA3TS. 2T9

the most wonderful revelations of embryology is tlie
proof of the fact that the "brain itself is, at its first
beginning, merely an infolding of the epidermic layer
of the general integument. Hence it follows that the
rods and cones of the vertebrate eye are modified epi-
dermic cells, as much as the crystalline cones of the
insect or crustacean eye are ; and that the inversion of
the position of the former in relation to light arises sim-
ply from the roundabout way in which the vertebrate
retina is developed.

Thus all the higher sense organs start from one.
foundation, and the receptive epithelium of the eye, or
of the ear, is as much modified epidermis as is that of
the nose. The structural unity of the sense organs is
the morphological parallel to their identity of physio-
logical function, which, as we have seen, is to be im-
pressed by certain modes of motion; and they axe fine
or coarse, in proportion to the delicacy or the strength
of the impulses by which they are to be affected.

In ultimate analysis, then, it appears that a sensa-
tion is the equivalent in terms of consciousness for a
mode of motion of the matter of the sensorium. But,
if inquiry is pushed a stage farther, and the question
is asked, "What then do we know about matter and
motion? there is but one reply possible. All that we
know about motion is that it is a name for certain
changes in the relations of our visual, tactile, and mus-
cular sensations; and all that we know about matter

280 SENSATION AND THE SENSIFEROUS OKGANS.

is that it is the hypothetical substance of physical phe-
nomena the assumption of the existence of which is
as pure a piece of metaphysical speculation as is that
of the existence of the substance of mind.

Our sensations, onr pleasures, our pains, and the re-
lations of these, make np the sum total of the elements
of positive, unquestionable knowledge. We call a large
section of these sensations and their relations matter and
motion; the rest we term mind and thinking; and expe-
rience shows that there is a certain constant order of suc-
cession between some of the former and some of the latter.

This is all that just metaphysical criticism leaves
of the idols sot up by the spurious metaphysics of
vulgar common sense. It is consistent either with pure
Materialism, or with pure Idealism, but it is neither.
For the Idealist, not content with declaring the truth
that our knowledge is limited to facts of consciousness,
affirms the wholly improvable proposition that nothing
exists beyond these and the substance of mind. And,
on the other hand, the Materialist, holding by the truth
that, for anything that appears to the contrary, material
phenomena are the causes of mental phenomena, assorts
his unprovable dogma, that material phenomena and the
substance of matter are the solo primary existences,

Strike out the propositions about which neither con-
troversialist does or can know anything, and there is
nothing left for them to quarrel about. Make a desert
of the Unknowable, and the divine Astooa of philo-
sophic peace will commence her blessed reign*

XL
EYOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

IN the former half of the eighteenth century, the
term " evolution" was introduced into biological writ-
ings, in order to denote the mode in which some of
the most eminent physiologists of that time conceived
that the generation of living things toot place ; in op-
position to the hypothesis advocated, in the preceding
century, by Harvey in that remarkable work"* which
would give him a claim to rank among the founders
of biological science, even had he not been the discov-
erer of the circulation of the blood.

One of Harvey's prime objects is to defend and
establish, on the basis of direct observation, the opinion
already held by Aristotle; that, in the higher animals
at any rate, the formation of the new organism by the
process of generation takes place, not suddenly, by
simultaneous accretion of rudiments of all, or of the
most important, of the organs of the adult ; nor by
sudden metamorphosis of a formative substance into a
miniature of the whole, which subsequently grows ; but

* The " Exercitationes de Generatione Anlmalium," wMcli Dr. George
Ent extracted from Mm and published In 1651.

282 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

fry epigwwsis, or successive differentiation of a rela-
tively homogeneous rudiment into the parts and struct-
ures which are characteristic of the adult.

"Et primd, quidem, quoniam per epigenesin sive partinm super-
exorientium additamentum pullum fabricari certum est: qusanam
pars ante alias omnes exstruatur, et quid de ilia ejnsque generandi
modo observandum veniat, dispiciemus. Batum sane est et in ovo
manifest^ apparet quod Aristo teles de perfectorum animaliinn gene-
ratione enuntiat : nimirum, non omnes partes simul fieri, sed ordine
aliam post aliam ; primumque existere particulam genitalem, cnjus
yirtute postea (tanquam ex principio quodarn) reliquso omnes partes
prosiliant. Qualem in plantarum seminibus (fabis, putd, aut glan-
dibus) gemmam siye apicem protuberantem cernimus, totius future
arboris principium. Estque Jicec particula wkit films emancipates
seonumque cottocatus, et principium per se vivens; tmde postea
membrorum ordo describitur; et quacunque ad alsolvcndum animal
pertinent, disponuntur* Quoniam enim nullapars se ipsam gene-
rat; sed postquam generate est^ $e ipsam jam aitf/et; idea eampri-
mdm oriri necesse est, qua principium augendi contimat (swe enim
planted, sive animal est, ceque omnibus inest quod mm Jiabeat wge-
tandi, me nutriendi),^ simTilqvLQ reliquas omnes partes suo quamque
ordine distinguat et formet ; proindeque in eadom primogenita par-
ticula anima primario in est, sensus, motusque, et totius vita) auctor
et principium. ' ' (Exercitatio 51.)

Harvey proceeds to contrast this view with that of
the "Medici," or followers of Hippocrates and Galen,
who, "badly philosophising," imagined that the brain,
the heart, and the liver were simultaneously first gene-
rated in the form of vesicles; and, at the same time,
while expressing his agreement with Aristotle in the
principle of epigenesis, he maintains that it is the blood
which is the primal generative part, and not, as Aristotle
thought, the heart.

* " De Generatione Animalium," lib. ii. cap. x.
f " De Generatione," lib. ii. cap. iv.

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 283

In the latter part of the seventeenth century, the
doctrine of epigenesis, thus advocated by Harvey, was
controverted, on the ground of direct observation, by
Malpighi, who affirmed that the body of the chick is
to be seen in the egg, before the punotum scmguineum
makes its appearance. But, from this perfectly correct
observation a conclusion which is by no means war-
ranted was drawn ; namely, that the chick, as a whole,
really exists in the egg antecedently to incubation ; and
that what happens in the course of the latter process
is no addition of new parts, "alias post alias natas,"
as Harvey puts it, but a simple expansion, or unfold-
ing, of the organs which already exist, though they
are too small and inconspicuous to be discovered. The
weight of Malpighi's observations therefore fell into
the scale of that doctrine which Harvey terms meta-
morphosis, in contradistinction to epigenesis.

The views of Malpighi were warmly welcomed, on
philosophical grounds, by Leibnitz,* who found in them
a support to his hypothesis of monads, and by Male-

* " Cependant, pour revenir aux formes ordinaires on aux araes mate"-
rielles, cette dur&e qu'il leur faut attribuer a la place de celle qu'on avoit
attribute aux atomes pourroit faire douter si elles ne vont pas de corps en
corps ; ce qui seroit la me"tempsychose, a peu pr&s comme quelques philo-
sophes ont cru la transmission du mouvement et celle des especes. Mais
cette imagination est bien 61oigne*e de la nature des choses, II n'y a point
de tel passage ; et c'est ici oft les transformations de Messieurs Swammer-
dam, Malpighi, et Leeuwenhoek, qui sont des plus excellens observateurs de
notre terns, sont venues a mon secours, et m^ont fait admettre plus aise-
ment, quo 1'animal, et toute autre substance organis^e ne commence point
lorsque nous le croyons, et que sa generation apparente n'est qu'une de"-
veloppement et une esp^ce d'augmentation. Aussi ai je remarqu6 que Tau-

284: EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

branche ; * while, in the middle of the eighteenth cen-
tury, not only speculative considerations, but a great
number of new and interesting observations on the phe-
nomena of generation, led the ingenious Bonnet, and
Haller, f the first physiologist of the age, to adopt, ad-
vocate, and extend them.

Bonnet affirms that, before fecundation, the hen's
egg contains an excessively minute but complete chick ;
and that fecundation and incubation simply cause this
germ to absorb nutritious matters, which are deposited
in the interstices of the elementary structures of which
the miniature chick, or germ, is made up. The conse-
quence of this intussusceptive growth is the " develop-
ment " or " evolution" of the germ into the visible bird.
Thus an organised individual (tout organise) " is a com-
posite body consisting of the original, or elementary,
parts and of the matters which have been associated

teur de la ' Recherche de la Ycrite,' M. Regis, M. Hartsoeker, et d'autres
habiles hommes n'ont pas 6t6 fort eloigne*s de ce sentiment.'* Leibnitz,
" Systeme nouveau de la Nature," 1695. The doctrine of " Emboltement "
is contained in the "Considerations sur le principe de vie," 1*705 ; the
preface to the " Theodicee," 1710 ; and the " Principes de la Nature et de
la Grace" (6), 1718.

* " II est vrai que la pens&e la plus raisonnable et la plus conforme a
1'experienee sur cette question trs difficile de la formation du foetus ; c'est
que les enfans sont de"ja presque tout forme's avant m&me Faction par la-
quelle ils sont con9us ; et que leurs me~res ne font que Icur donner 1'accrois-
semcnt ordinaire dans le temps de la grossesse." " De la Recherche de la
Verit^," livre ii. chap. vii. p. 334, 7th ed., 1721.

f The writer is indebted to Dr. Allen Thomson for reference to the evi-
dence contained in a note to Haller's edition of Boerhaave's " Prselectiones
Academics," vol. v. pt. ii. p. 497, published in 1744, that Haller originally

EYOLUTIOF IN BIOLOGY. 285

with them by the aid of "nutrition ; " so that, if these
matters could be extracted from the individual (tout), it
would, so to speak, become concentrated in a point, and
would thus be restored to its primitive condition of a
germ / " just as by extracting from a bone the calcare-
ous substance which is the source of its hardness, it is
reduced to its primitive state of gristle or membrane." *
"Evolution" and "development" are, for Bonnet,
synonymous terms ; and since by " evolution " he means
simply the expansion of that which was invisible into
visibility, he was naturally led to the conclusion, at
which Leibnitz had arrived by a different line of reason-
ing, that no such thing as generation, in the proper sense
of the word, exists in nature. The growth of an organic
being is simply a process of enlargement, as a particle
of dry gelatine may be swelled up by the intussusception
of water; its death is a shrinkage, such as the swelled
jelly might undergo on desiccation. Nothing really new
is produced in the living world, but the germs which de-
velop have existed since the beginning of things ; and
nothing really dies, but, when what we call death takes
place, the living thing shrinks back into its germ state. f

* " Considerations sur lea Corps organises," chap. x.

t Bonnet had the courage of his opinions, and in the " Palinge*ne"sie
Philosophique," part vi. chap, iv., he develops a hypothesis which he terms
" Evolution naturelle ; " and which, making allowance for his peculiar views
of the nature of generation, bears no small resemblance to what is under-
stood by " evolution" at the present day:

*' Si la volonte* divine a cre*e* par un seul Acte I'Universalite* des tres,
d'ofr venoient ces plantes et ces animaux dont Moyse nous decrit la Produc-
tion au troisieme et au cinquienie jour du renouvellement de notre monde ?

" Abuserois-je de la liberte de conjectures si je disois, que les Plantes

286 EVOLUTION 11$ BIOLOGY.

The two parts of Bonnet's hypothesis, namely, the
'doctrine that all living things proceed from pre-exist-
ing germs, and that these contain, one inclosed within
the other, the germs of all future living things, which
is the hypothesis of " emboitement ; " and the doctrine
that every germ contains in miniature all the organs of
the adult, which is the hypothesis of evolution or devel-
opment, in the primary senses of these words, must be
carefully distinguished. In fact, while holding firmly by
the former, Bonnet more or less modified the latter
in his later writings, and, at length, he admits that a
"germ" need not be an actual miniature of the organ-
ism ; but that it may be merely an " original pref orrna-
tion " capable of producing the latter. *

But, thus defined, the germ is neither more nor less
than the "particula genitalis" of Aristotle, or the
" primordium vegetale " or " ovum " of Harvey ; and

et les Animaux qui existent aujourd'hui sont parvenus par uue sorte d'evo-
lution naturelle des Etres organises qui peuplaient ce premier Monde, sorti
imme'diatement des MAINS du CBEATEUR ? . . .

" Ne supposons que trois revolutions. La Terre vient de sortir des
MAINS du CREATEUR. Des causes prepares par sa SAGESSE font d^velop-
per de toutes parts les Germes. Les Etres organises commencent & jouir
de Pexistence. Us e"toient probablement alors bien diffe'rens de ce qu'ils
eont aujourd'hui. Us Petoient autant que ce premier Monde diff<roit de
celui que nous habitons. Nous manquons de moyens pour juger de ces
dissemblances, et peut-^tre que le plus habile NaturaKste qui auroit e*t6
plac^ dans ce premier Monde y auroit enticement me'connu nos Plantes et
nos Animaux."

* " Ce mot (germe) ne ddsignera pas seulement un corps organist
r&duit en petit ; il d4signera encore toute espece dc preformationoriginelle
dont un Tout organigue peut r$sulter comme de son prindpe imm&diat*"
" Paling6n6sie Philosophique," part x. chap. ii.

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 287

the " evolution ?J of such a germ would not be distin-
guishable from " epigenesis."

Supported by the great authority of Haller, the doc-
trine of evolution, or development, prevailed through-
out the whole of the eighteenth century, and Cuvier
appears to have substantially adopted Bonnet's later
views, though probably he would not have gone all
lengths in the direction of " emboitement," In a well-
known note to Laurillards' " Eloge," prefixed to the last
edition of the " Ossemens f ossiles," the " radical de
1'etre " is much the same thing as Aristotle's " partieula
genitalis " and Harvey's " ovum." *

Bonnet's eminent contemporary, Buffon, held nearly
the same views with respect to the nature of the germ,
and expresses them even more confidently.

" Ceux qui out era que le coenr toit le premier forme*, se sont
trompe"s ; ceux qui disent que c'est le sang se trompent aussi : tout
est forme" en m&me temps. Si 1'on ne consnlte que 1'observation,
le ponlet se voit dans Pceuf avant qni 1 il ait 6t6 couveV' t

" J'ai ouvert une grande quantity d'oeufs & differ ens temps avant
et apr&s Tincnbation, et je me suis oonvaincu par mes yeux que le
poulet existe en entier dans le milieu de la cicatricule au moment
qu'il sort du corps de la poule." J

* " M. Olivier consid4rant que tous les 6tres organises sont d^riv^s de
parens, et ne voyant dans la nature aucune force capable de produire F or-
ganisation, croyait & la pr6-existence des germes ; non pas & la pre"-exist-
ence d'un ^tre tout forme", puisqu'il est bien evident que ce n'est que par
des deVeloppemens successifs que Fetre acquiert sa forme ; mais, si Pon
pent s^exprimer ainsi, & la pre*-existence du radical de Fetre, radical qui
existe avant que la serie des Evolutions ne commence, et qui remonte cer-
tainement, suivant la belle observation de Bonnet, & plusieurs generations."
-Laurillard, " ^loge de Cuvier, n note 12.

f "Histoire Katurelle," torn. ii. ed. ii. 1750, p. 350.

t Ibid. p. 351.
13

288 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

The " moule interieur " of Buffon is the aggregate
of elementary parts which constitute the individual, and
is thus the equivalent of Bonnet's germ, * as defined in
the passage cited above. But Buff on further imagined
that innumerable "molecules organiques" are dispersed
throughout the world, and that alimentation consists in
the appropriation by the parts of an organism of those
molecules which are analogous to them. Growth, there-
fore ? was, on this hypothesis, a process partly of simple
evolution, and partly of what has been termed "syn-
genesis." Buffon's opinion is, in fact,, a sort of combi-
nation of views, essentially similar to those of Bonnet,
with others, somewhat similar to those of the a Medici "
whom Harvey condemns. The " molecules organiques "
are physical equivalents of Leibnitz's "monads."

It is a striking example of the difficulty of getting
people to use their own powers of investigation accu-
rately, that this form of the doctrine of evolution should
have held its ground so long ; for it was thoroughly and
completely exploded, not long after its enunciation, by
Caspar Friederich "Wolff, who in his " Theoria Genera-
tionis," published in 1759, placed the opposite theory of
epigenesis upon the secure foundation of fact, from which
it has never been displaced. But Wolff had no immedi-
ate successors. The school of Ouvier was lamentably de-
ficient in embryologists ; and it was only in the course
of the first thirty years of the present century, that Pr-
vest and Dumas in France, and, later on, Dollinger, Pan-

* See particularly Buffon, L c. p. 41.

EYOLUTICOT IS BIOLOGY. 289

der, Von Bar, Bathke, and Kemak in G-ermany, founded
modern embryology; while, at the same time, they
proved the utter incompatibility of the hypothesis of
evolution, as formulated by Bonnet and Haller, with
easily demonstrable facts.

Nevertheless, though the conceptions originally de-
noted by "evolution" and "development" were shown
to be utenable, the words retained their application to
the process by which the embryos of living beings gradu-
ally make their appearance; and the terms "Develop-
ment," " Entwickelung," and " Evolutio," are now indis-
criminately used for the series of genetic changes ex-
hibited by living beings, by writers who would emphatic-
ally deny that "Development' 5 or " Entwickelung " or
a Evolutio," in the sense in which these words were usu-
ally employed by Bonnet or by Haller, ever occurs.

Evolution, or development, is, in fact, at present em-
ployed in biology as a general name for the history of
the steps by which any living being has acquired the
morphological and the physiological characters which
distinguish it. As civil history may be divided into
biography, which is the history of individuals, and uni-
versal history, which is the history of the human race,
so evolution falls naturally into two categories, the evo-
lution of the individual, and the evolution of the sum of
living beings. It will be convenient to deal with the
modern doctrine of evolution under these two heads.

290 EYOLUTIOlvF IN BIOLOGY.

I. The Evolution of the Individual.

No exception is, at this time, known to the general
law, established upon an immense multitude of direct
observations, that every living thing is evolved from a
particle of matter in which no trace of the distinctive
characters of the adult form of that living thing is dis-
cernible. This particle is termed a germ. Harvey*

"Omnibus viventibus primordmm insit, ex quo et a quo pro-
veniaBt. Liceat hoc nobis jprimordium vegetale nominate ; nenipe
substantial!! quandam corpoream vitam habentem potenti&; vel
quoddam per se existens, quod aptum sit, in vegetativam formam,
ab interno principio operante, rautari. Quale nempe primordium,
ovum est et plantarum semen ; tale etiam viviparorum conceptus,
et insectorum vermis ab Aristotele dictus: diversa scilicet diver-
sorum yiventium primordia."

The definition of a germ as " matter potentially alive,
and having within itself the tendency to assume a defi-
nite living form," appears to meet all the requirements of
modern science. For, notwithstanding it might be just-
ly questioned whether a germ is not merely potentially,
but rather actually, alive, though its vital manifestations
are reduced to a minimum, the term " potential " may
fairly be used in a sense broad enough to escape the
objection. And the qualification of "potential 3 ' has the
advantage of reminding us that the great chacteristic of
the germ is not so much what it is, but what it may,
under suitable conditions, become. Harvey shared the

* "Exercitationes de Generatione." Ex. 62, "Ovum esse primordium
commune omnibus animalibus." *

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 291

belief of Aristotle whose writings he so often quotes,
and of whom he speaks as his precursor and model,
with the generous respect with which one genuine work-
er should regard another that such germs may arise by
a process of " equivocal generation " out of not-living
matter ; and the aphorism so commonly ascribed to him,
"omne vivum ex ovo" and which is indeed a fair sum-
mary of his reiterated assertions, though incessantly em-
ployed against the modern advocates of spontaneous
generation, can be honestly so used only by those who
have never read a score of pages of the " Exercitationes."
Harvey, in fact, believed as implicitly as Aristotle did
in the equivocal generation of the lower animals. But,
while the course of modern investigation has only brought
out into greater prominence the accuracy of Harvey's
conception of the nature and mode of development of
germs, it has as distinctly tended to disprove the occur-
rence of equivocal generation, or abiogenesis, in the pres-
ent course of nature. In the immense majority of both
plants and animals, it is certain that the germ is not
merely a body in which life is dormant or potential, but
that it is itself simply a detached portion of the sub-
stance of a pre-existing living body ; and the evidence
has yet to be adduced which will satisfy any cautious
reasoner that "oinne vivum ex vivo" is not as well-
established a law of the existing course of nature as
"omne vivum ex ovo."

In all instances which have yet been investigated,
the substance of this germ has a peculiar chemical com-

292 EVOLUTIOF IN BIOLOG-Y.

position, consisting of at fewest four elementary bodies,
viz. carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, united into
the ill-defined compound known as protein, and associ-
ated with much water, and very generally, if not always,
with sulphur and phosphorus in minute proportions.
Moreover, up to the present time, protein is known only
as a product and constituent of living matter. Again, a
true germ is either devoid of any structure discernible by
optical means, or, at most, it is a simple nucleated cell.*

In all cases, the process of evolution consists in a
succession of changes of the form, structure, and func-
tions of the germ, by which it passes, step by step, from
an extreme simplicity, or relative homogeneity, of visi-
ble structure, to a greater or less degree of complexity
or heterogeneity; and the course of progressive differ-
entiation is usually accompanied by growth, which is
effected by intussusception. This intussusception, how-
ever, is a very different process from that imagined either
by Buffon, or by Bonnet. The substance by the addition
of which the germ is enlarged is, in no case, simply ab-
sorbed ready-made from the not-living world and packed
between the elementary constituents of the germ, as
Bonnet imagined ; still less does it consist of the " mo-
lecules organiques " of Buffon. The new material is, in
great measure, not only absorbed but assimilated, so that
it becomes part and parcel of the molecular structure of

* In some cases of sexless multiplication the germ is a cell-aggregate-
if we call germ only that which is already detached from the parent or-
ganism.

EVOLUTION IS BIOLOGY. 293

the living body into which it enters. And, so far from
the fully developed organism being simply the germ
plus the nutriment which it has absorbed, it is probable
that the adult contains neither in form, nor in substance,
more than an inappreciable fraction of the constituents
of the germ, and that it is almost, if not wholly, made
up of assimilated and metamorphosed nutriment. In
the great majority of cases, at any rate, the full-grown
organism becomes what it is by the absorption of not-
living matter, and its conversion into living matter of
a specific type. As Harvey says (Ex. 45), all parts of
the body are nourished " ab eodem succo alibili, aliter
aliterque cambiato," "lit plantss omnes ex eodem com-
muni nutrimento (sive rore seu terras huniore)."

In all animals and plants, above the lowest, the germ
is a nucleated cell, using that term in its broadest sense ;
and the first step in the process of the evolution of the
individual is the divisi >n of this cell into two or more
portions. The process of division is repeated, until the
organism, from being unicellular, becomes multicellular.
The single cell becomes a cell-aggregate ; and it is to the
growth and metamorphosis of the cells of the cell-aggre-
gate thus produced, that all the organs and tissues of the
adult owe their origin.

In certain animals belonging to every one of the
chief groups into which the Metazoa are divisible, the
cells of the cell-aggregate which results from the process
of yelk-division, and which is termed a morula, diverge
from one another in such a manner as to give rise to a

294: EVOLUTION" IN BIOLOGY.

central space, around which they dispose themselves as
a coat or envelope ; and thus the morula becomes a ves-
icle filled with fluid, the planulu. The wall of the pla-
nula is next pushed in on one side, or invaginated,
whereby it is converted into a double-walled sac with an
opening, the Uastopore, which leads into the cavity lined
by the inner wall. This cavity is the primitive aliment-
ary cavity or arohenteron ; the inner, or invaginated,
layer is the JiypobUst, the outer the epiblast; and the
embryo, in this stage, is termed a gastrula. In all the
higher animals, a layer of cells makes its appearance be-
tween the hypoblast and the epiblast, and is termed the
mesoblast. In the further course of development, the
epiblast becomes the ectoderm or epidermic layer of the
body ; the hypoblast becomes the epithelium of the mid-
dle portion of the alimentary canal ; and the mesoblast
gives rise to all the other tissues, except the central ner-
vous system, which originates from an ingrowth of the
epiblast.

With more or less modification in detail, the embryo
has been observed to pass through these successive evo-
lutional stages in sundry Sponges, Coelenterates, Worms,
Eehinoderms, Tunicates, Arthropods, Mollusks, and Yer-
tebrates ; and there are valid reasons for the belief, that
all animals of higher organisation than the Protozoa
agree in the general character of the early stages of their
individual evolution. Each, starting from the condition
of a simple nucleated cell, becomes a cell-aggregate ; and
this passes through a condition which represents the

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 295

gastrula stage, before taking on the features distinctive
of the group to which it belongs. Stated in this form,
the " gastrsea theory " of Haeckel appears to the present
writer to be one of the most important and best founded
of recent generalisations. So far as individual plants
and animals are concerned, theref ore, evolution is not a
speculation but a fact ; and it takes place by epigenesis.

" Animal . . . per epigenesin procreatur, materiam simul attra-
hit, parat, concoquit, et eadem utitur; formatur simul et augetur
. . . primum futuri corporis concrementum . . . prout augetur,
dividitur sensim et distinguitur in partes, non simul omnes, sed alias
post alias natas, et ordine quasque suo emergentes." *

In these words, by the divination of genius, Harvey,
in the seventeenth century, summed up the outcome of
the work of all those who, with appliances he could not
dream of, are continuing his labours in the nineteenth
century.

Nevertheless, though the doctrine of epigenesis, as
understood by Harvey, has definitively triumphed over
the doctrine of evolution, as understood by his oppo-
nents of the eighteenth century, it is not impossible that,
when the analysis of the process of development is car-
ried still farther, and the origin of the molecular com*
ponents of the physically gross, though sensibly minute,
bodies which we term germs is traced, the theory of de-
velopment will approach more nearly to metamorphosis
than to epigenesis. Harvey thought that impregnation

* Harvey, " Exercitationes de Generatione." Ex. 45, " Qusenam sit
pulli materia et quomodo fiat In Ovo,"

296 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

influenced the female organism as a contagion ; and tliat
tlie blood, which he conceived to be the first rudiment
of the germ, arose in the clear fluid of the " colliquamen-
tum" of the ovum by a process of concrescence, as a sort
of living precipitate. We now know, on the contrary,
that the female germ or ovum, in all the higher animals
and plants, is a body which possesses the structure of a
nucleated cell ; that impregnation consists in the fusion
of the substance * of another more or less modified nu-
cleated cell, the male germ, with the ovum; and that
the structural components of the body of the embryo
are all derived, by a process of division, from the coa-
lesced male and female germs. Hence it is conceivable,
and indeed probable, that every part of the adult con-
tains molecules, derived both from the male and from
the female parent ; and that, regarded as a mass of mo-
lecules, the entire organism may be compared to a web
of which the warp is derived from the female and the
woof from the male. And each of these may constitute
one individuality, in the same sense as the whole organ-
ism is one individual, although the matter of the organ-
ism has been constantly changing. The primitive male
and female molecules may play the part of Buffon's
"monies organiques," and mould the assimilated nutri-
ment, each according to its own type, into innumerable
new molecules. From this point of view the process,
which, in its superficial aspect, is epigenesis, appears in
essence, to be evolution, in the modified sense adopted

* Not yet actually demonstrated in the case of phsenogamous plants.

EVOLUTION IN" BIOLOGY. 297

in Bonnet's later writings ; and development is merely
the expansion of a potential organism or " original pre-
formation" according to fixed laws.

II. The Evolution of the Sum of Living Beings.

The notion that all the kinds of animals and plants
may have come into existence by the growth and modifi-
cation of primordial germs is as old as speculative
thought ; but the modern scientific form of the doctrine
can be traced historically to the influence of several con-
verging lines of philosophical speculation and of physical
observation, none of which go farther back than the
seventeenth century. These are :

1. The enunciation by Descartes of the conception
that the physical universe, whether living or not living,
is a mechanism, and that, as such, it is explicable on
physical principles.

2. The observation of the gradations of structure,
from extreme simplicity to very great complexity, pre-
sented by living things, and of the relation of these
graduated forms to one another.

3. The observation of the existence of an analogy
between the series of gradations presented by the species
which compose any great group of animals or plants, and
the series of embryonic conditions of the highest mem-
bers of that group.

4. The observation that large groups of species of
widely different habits present the same fundamental
plan of structure ; and that parts of the same animal or

298 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

plant, the functions of which, are very different, likewise
exhibit modifications of a common plan.

5. The observation of the existence of structures, in a
rudimentary and apparently useless condition, in one
species of a group, which are fully developed and have
definite functions in other species of the same group.

6. The observation of the effects of varying condi-
tions in modifying living organisms.

7. The observation of the facts of geographical dis-
tribution.

8. The observation of the facts of the geological suc-
cession of the forms of life.

1. Notwithstanding the elaborate disguise which fear
of the powers that were led Descartes to throw over his
real opinions, it is impossible to read the " Principes de
la Philosophic " without acquiring the conviction that
this great philosopher held that the physical world and
all things in it, whether living or not living, have origin-
ated by a process of evolution, due to the continuous
operation of purely physical causes, out of a primitive
relatively formless matter.*

The following passage is especially instructive :

u Et taut s'en faut que je veuille que 1'on croie toutes les clioses
que j'6orirai, que m6rae je pretends en proposer ici qnelqnes tines
que je crois aftsolument tee fausses; fl savoir, je ne doute point que
1 monde n'ait 4t6 cr66 au commencement avec autant de perfection

* As Buffonhas well said : " I/id&e de ramener Pexplication de tons les
ph^nomenes a des principes mecaniques est assurement grande et belle, ce
pas est le plus hardi qu'on pent faire en philosophic, et c'est Descartes qui

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 299

qu'il en a ; en sorte que le soleil, la terre, la lune, et les 6toiles ont
ete des lors ; et que la terre n'a pas en seulement en soi les semences
des plantes, mais que les plantes meme en ont convert nne partie ;
et qu' Adam et Eve n'ont pas 6 te" cr66 s enf ans mais en &ge d'hommes
parfaits. La religion cnre" tienne vent que nous le crojons ainsi, et
la raison natnrelle nous persuade enticement cette ve"rite ; car si
nous considerons la toute puissance de Dieu, nous devons juger que
tout ce qu'il a fait a eu ds le commencement toute la perfection
qu'il devoit avoir. Mais neanmoins, comme on conn6itroit beaucoup
mieux quelle a 6 te* la nature d'Adam et celle des arbres de Paradis
si on avoit examine" comment les enfants se forment peu & peu dans
le ventre de leurs m&res et comment les plantes sortent de leurs
semences, que si on avoit seulement consider^ quels ils ont e* t6 quand
Dieu les a cr6es : tout de meme, nous ferons nrieux entendre quelle
est ge" ne*ralement la nature de tontes les choses qui sont au monde si
nous pouvons imaginer quelques principes qui soient fort intelligibles
et fort simples, desquels nous puissions voir clairement que les astres
et la terre et enfin tout ce monde visible auroit pu etre produit ainsi
que de quelques semences (bien que nous sachions qu'il n'a pas 6t6
produit en cette facon) que si nous la decrivions seuleraent comme
il est, ou bien comme nous croyons qu'il a 6t6 cre'e'. Et parceque je
pense avoir trouv< des principes qui sont tels, je tacherai ici de les
expliquer. " *

If we read between the lines of this singular exhibi-
tion of force of one kind and weakness of another, it is
clear that Descartes believed that he had divined the
mode in which the physical universe had been evolved ;
and the " Traite de 1'homme " and the essay " Sur les
Passions" afford abundant additional evidence that he
sought for, and thought he had found, an explanation of
the phenomena of physical life by deduction from purely
physical laws.

Spinoza abounds in the same sense, and is as usual
perfectly candid

* " Principes de la Philosophic," Troisi&me partie, 45.

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

" STaturse leges et regulee, secundum quas omnia finnt et ex tmis
formis in alias mutantur, sunt ubique et semper eadem.' 1 *

Leibnitz's doctrine of continuity necessarily led him
in the same direction ; and, of the infinite multitude of
monads with which he peopled the world, each is sup-
posed to be the focus of an endless process of evolution
and involution. In the "Protogsea," xxvi., Leibnitz
distinctly suggests the mutability of species

" Alii mirantur in saxis passim species videri quas vel in orbe
cognito, vel saltern in vicinis locis frnstra quseras. Ita ' Oornua
Ammonis,' quaa ex nautilorum numero nabeantur, passim et forma
et magnitudine (nam et pedali diametro aliquando reperiuntur) ab
omnibus illis naturis discrepare dicunt, quas prosbet mare, Sed quis
absconditos ejus recessus aut subterranoas abysses pervestigavit ?
quam multa nobis animalia antea ignota oJffert novns orbis? Et
credibile est per magnas illas conversions etiam animalium species
plarimum immutatas. 1 '

Thus, in the end of the seventeenth century, the seed
was sown which has, at intervals, brought forth recur-
rent crops of evolutional hypotheses, based, more or less
completely, on general reasonings.

Among the earliest of these speculations is that put
forward by Benoit de Maillet in his " Telliamed," which,
though printed in 1735, was not published until twenty-
three years later. Considering that this book was writ-
ten before the time of Haller, or Bonnet, or Linnoeus,
or Hutton, it surely deserves more respectful considera-
tion that it usually receives. For De Maillot not only
has a definite conception of the plasticity of living
things, and of the production of existing species by the

* "Ethics," Pars tertia, Prarfatio,

EVOLUTION" ET BIOLOGY. 301

modification of their predecessors ; but he clearly appre-
hends the cardinal maxim of modern geological science,
that the explanation of the structure of the globe is to
be sought in the deductive application to geological phe-
nomena of the principles established inductively by the
study of the present course of nature. Somewhat later,
Maupertuis* suggested a curious hypothesis as to the
causes of variation, which he thinks may be sufficient to
account for the origin of all animals from a single pair.
Eobinet f followed out much the same line of thought as
De Maillet, but less soberly ; and Bonnet's speculations
in the " Palingenesie," which appeared in 1769, have
already been mentioned. Buffon (1753-1778), at first a
partisan of the absolute immutability of species, subse-
quently appears to have believed that larger or smaller
groups of species have been produced by the modifica-
tion of a primitive stock ; but he contributed nothing to
the general doctrine of evolution.

Erasmus Darwin ( u Zoonomia," 1794), though a zeal-
ous evolutionist, can hardly be said to have made any
real advance on his predecessors ; and, notwithstanding
that Goethe (1791-4) had the advantage of a wide
knowledge of morphological facts, and a true insight
into their signification, while he threw all the power of
a great poet into the expression of his conceptions, it
may be questioned whether he supplied the doctrine of

** " Systeme de la Nature." " Essai sur la Formation des Corps Orga-

nise"s," W51, riv.

f " Considerations Philosophiques sur la gradation naturelle des formes
de F&tre ; on les essais de la nature qui apprend & faire Phomme," 1768.

302 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

evolution with a firmer scientific basis than it already
possessed. Moreover, whatever the value of Goethe's
labours in that field, they were not published "before
1820, long after evolutionism had taken a new departure
from the works of Treviranus and Lamarck the first of
its advocates who were equipped for their task with the
needful large and accurate knowledge of the phenomena
of life, as a whole. It is remarkable that each of these
writers seems to have been led, independently and con-
temporaneously, to invent the same name of " Biology "
for the science of the phenomena of life ; and thus, fol-
lowing Buffon, to have recognised the essential unity of
these phenomena, and their contradistinction from those
of inanimate nature. And it is hard to say whether
Lamarck or Treviranus has the priority in propounding
the main thesis of the doctrine of evolution ; for though
the first volume of Treviranus's " Biologie " appeared
only in 1802, he says, in the preface to his later work,
the " Erscheinungen und Gesetze des organischen Le-
bens," dated 1831, that he wrote the first volume of the
u Biologie " " nearly five-and-thirty years ago," or about
1796.

Now, in 1794, there is evidence that Lamarck held
doctrines which present a striking contrast to those
which are to be found in the " Philosophic Zoologique,"
as the following passages show :

" 685. Quoique mon unique objet dans cet article n'ait 6te* Cjtte
de traiter de la cause physique de 1'entretien de la vie des toes or-
ganiques, raalgre 1 cela j'ai os< avancer en debutant, qne Fexistenoe

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. gQ3

de ces tees tonnants n'appartiennent nullement a la nature ; que
tont ce qu'on pent entendre par le mot nature, ne pouvoit donner la
vie, c'est-^-dire, que toutes les qualit^s de la mati&re, jointes & toutes
les clrconstances possibles, et m&me & l'activit< rdpandue dans Puni-
vers, ne pouvaient point produire un 6tre muni du mouvement or-
ganique, capable de reproduire son semblable, et sujet & la mort.

" 686. Tous les individus de cette nature, qui existent, provien-
nent d'individus semblables qui tous ensemble constituent Pesp&ce
enti&re. Or, je crois qu'il est aussi impossible & Phomme de con-
n6itre la cause physique du premier individu de chaque esp&ce, que
d'assigner aussi physiquement la cause de I'existence de la tnati&re
ou de Punivers entier. O'est au moins ce que le resultat de mes
connaissances et de mes reflexions me portent & penser. S'il existe
beaucoup de vari6t6s produites par 1'efFet des circonstances, ces va-
ri^t^s ne d<naturent point les esp^ces ; mais on se trompe, sans doute
souvent, en indiquant comme espdce, ce qui n'est que variete" ; et
alors je sens que cette erreur peut tirer consequence dans les rai-
sonnements que Pon fait sur cette matiere." *

The first three volumes of Treviranus's " Biologie/'
which contain his general views of evolution, appeared
between 1802 and 1805. The " Kecherches sur Porgani-
sation des corps vivants," in which the outlines of La-
marck's doctrines are given, was published in 1802 ; but
the full development of his views, in the " Philosophic
Zoologique," did not take place until 1809.

The "Biologie" and the " Philosophic Zoologique"
are both very remarkable productions, and are still

* " Recherches sur les causes des principaux faits physiques," par J".
B. Lamarck. Paris. Seconde ann4e dc la Ke'publique. In the preface,
Lamarck says that the work was written in 1776, and presented to the
Academy ia 1780 ; but it was not published before 1794, and, at that time,
it presumably expressed Lamarck's mature views. It would be Interesting
to know what brought about the change of opinion manifested in the " Re-
cherches sur 1'organisation des corpa vivants," published only seven years
later.

304 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

worthy of attentive study, but they fell upon evil times.
The vast authority of Cuvier was employed in support
of the traditionally respectable hypotheses of special cre-
ation and of catastrophism ; and the wild speculations
of the " Disco nrs sur les Evolutions de la Surface du
Globe " were held to be models of sound scientific think-
ing, while the really much more sober and philosophical
hypotheses of the " Hydrogeologie " were scouted. For
many years it was the fashion to speak of Lamarck with
ridicule, while Treviranus was altogether ignored.

Nevertheless, the work had been done. The con-
ception of evolution was henceforward irrepressible, and
it incessantly reappears, in one shape or another,* up
to the year 1858, when Mr. Darwin and Mr. "Wallace
published their "Theory of Natural Selection." The
" Origin of Species " appeared in 1859 ; and it is within
the knowledge of all whose memories go back to that
time, that, henceforward, the doctrine of evolution has
assumed a position and acquired an importance which it
never before possessed. In the " Origin of Species," and
in his other numerous and important contributions to the
solution of the problem of biological evolution, Mr.
Darwin confines himself to the discussion of the causes
which have brought about the present condition of living
matter, assuming such matter to have once come into
existence. On the other hand, Mr. Spencer f and Pro-

* See the " Historical Sketch " prefixed to the last edition of the " Ori
gin of Species.'*

f "First Principles" and "Principles of Biology," 1860-1804.

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. gQ5

f essor Haeckel * have dealt with, the whole problem of
evolution. The profound and vigorous writings of Mr.
Spencer embody the spirit of Descartes in the knowledge
of our own day, and may be regarded as the " Principes
de la Philosophie" of the nineteenth century; while,
whatever hesitation may not unfrequently be felt by less
daring minds, in following Haeckel in many of his
speculations, his attempt to systematise the doctrine of
evolution and to exhibit its influence as the central
thought of modern biology, cannot fail to have a far-
reaching influence on the progress of science.

If we seek for the reason of the difference between
the scientific position of the doctrine of evolution a
century ago, and that which it occupies now, we shall
find it in the great accumulation of facts, the several
classes of which have been enumerated above, under the
second to the eighth heads. For those which are grouped
under the second to the seventh of these classes, respect-
ively, have a clear significance on the hypothesis of ero-
lution, wliile they are unintelligible if that hypothesis be
denied. And those of the eighth group are not only
unintelligible without the assumption of evolution, but
can be proved never to be discordant with that hypothe-
sis, while, in some cases, they are exactly such as the
hypothesis requires. The demonstration of these asser-
tions would require a volume, but the general nature of
the evidence on which they rest may be briefly indicated.

2. The accurate investigation of the lowest forms of

* " Generelle Morphologic," 1866.

306 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

animal life, commenced by Leeuwenhoek and Swammer-
dam, and continued by the remarkable labours of Reau-
mur, Trembley, Bonnet, and a host of other observers,
in the latter part of the seventeenth and the first half of
the eighteenth centuries, drew the attention of biologists
to the gradation in the complexity of organisation which
is presented by living beings, and culminated in the doc-
trine of the " echelle des etres," so powerfully and clearly
stated by Bonnet; and, before him, adumbrated by
Locke and by Leibnitz. In the then state of knowledge,
it appeared that all the species of animals and plants
could be arranged in one series ; in such a manner that,
by insensible gradations, the mineral passed into the
plant, the plant into the polype, the polype into the
worm, and so, through gradually higher forms of life, to
man, at the summit of the animated world.

But, as knowledge advanced, this conception ceased
to be tenable in the crude form in which it was first put
forward. Taking into account existing animals and
plants alone, it became obvious that they fell into groups
which were more or less sharply separated from one
another ; and, moreover, that even the species of a genus
can hardly ever be arranged in linear series* Their
natural resemblances and differences are only to be ex-
pressed by disposing them as if they were branches
springing from a common hypothetical centre.

Lamarck, while affirming the verbal proposition that
animals form a single series, was forced by his vast
acquaintance with the details of zoology to limit the

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 307

assertion to such, a series as may be formed out of the ab-
stractions constituted by the common characters of each
group.*

Cuvier on anatomical, and Yon Baer on embryological
grounds, made the further step of proving that, even in
this limited sense, animals cannot be arranged in a single
series, but that there are several distinct plans of organi-
sation to be observed among them, no one of which, in
its highest and most complicated modification, leads to
any of the others.

The conclusions enunciated by Cuvier and Von Baer
have been confirmed, in principle, by all subsequent
research into the structure of animals and plants. But
the effect of the adoption of these conclusions has been
rather to substitute a new metaphor for that of Bonnet
than to abolish the conception expressed by it. Instead
of regarding living things as capable of arrangement in
one series like the steps of a ladder, the results of
modern investigation compel us to dispose them as if
they were the twigs and branches of a tree. The ends
of the twigs represent individuals, the smallest groups of
twigs species, larger groups genera, and so on, until we
arrive at the source of all these ramifications of the main
branch, which is represented by a common plan of struct-
ure. At the present moment, it is impossible to draw
up any definition, based on broad anatomical or develop-

* "II s'agit done de prouver que la s4rie qui constitute Pchelle animale
reside essentiellement dans la distribution des masses principals qui la
composent et non dans celle des especes ni me'me toujours dans celle des
genres." "Phil. Zoologique," chap. v.

308 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

mental characters, by which any one of Cuvier ? s great
groups shall "be separated from all the rest. On the con-
trary, the lower members of each tend to converge
towards the lower members of all the others. The same
may be said of the vegetable world. The apparently
clear distinction between flowering and flower-less plants
has been broken down by the series of gradations
between the two exhibited by the Lycopodiacece, Rhizo-
Bj and GymnospermecB* The groups of Fungi^
S) and Algce have completely run into one another,
and, when the lowest forms of each are alone considered^
even the animal and vegetable kingdoms cease to have a
definite frontier.

If it is permissible to speak of the relations of living
forms to one another metaphorically, the similitude
chosen must undoubtedly be that of a common root,
whence two main trunks, one representing the vegetable
and one the animal world, spring; and, each dividing
into a few main branches, these subdivide into multitudes
of branchlets and these into smaller groups of twigs.

As Lamarck has well said *

"II n'y a qne ceux qui se sont longtemps et fortement occupe"s
de la determination des esp&ces, et qui ont consulte* do riches col-
lections, qni peuvent savoir jusqu'& quel point les espdces, parted les
corps vivants se fondent ]es unes dans les autres, et qui ont pu se
convaincre que, dans les parties ou. nous voyons des esp&ces iso!4s,
cela n'est ainsi que parcequ'il nous en manque d'autres qui en sont
plus voisines et que nous n'avons pas encore recuoillies.

" Je ne veux pas dire pour cela que les animaux qui existent

* Philosophic Zoologique, premiere partie, chap. iii.

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 309

ferment une serie tres-simple et partoat 6galement nuance* e; mais
je dis qn'ils forment une se"rie rameuse, irr&gulie'rement gradu&e et
qui n'a point de discontinuity dans ses parties, on qui, du moins,
n'en a toujours pas en, s'il est vrai que, par suite de qnelques
esp&ees perdues, il s'en trouve quelque part. II en resulte qne les
esp&ces qui terminent chaque ramean de la s&rie g6n6rale tiennent,
an rooms d'un c6t6, d'autres espdces voisines qui se nuancent avec
elles. Yoila ce qne l'e"tat bien connn des choses me met main-
tenant & porte* e de demontrer. Je n'ai "besoin d'aucune hypoth^se
ni d'aucune supposition pour cela: j'en atteste toute naturalistes
observateurs."

3. In a remarkable essay * Meckel remarks

" There is no good physiologist who has not been struck by the
observation that the original form of all organisms is one and the
same, and that out of this one form, all, the lowest as well as the
highest, are developed in such a manner that the latter pass through
the permanent forms of the former as transitory stages. Aristotle,
Haller, Harvey, Kielmeyer, Autenrieth, and many others, have
either made this observation incidentally, or, especially the latter,
have drawn particular attention to it, and drawn therefrom results
of permanent importance for physiology."

Meckel proceeds to exemplify the thesis, that the
lower forms of animals represent stages in the course of
the development of the higher, with a large series of
illustrations.

After comparing the Salamanders and the perenni-
branchiate TJrodela with the Tadpoles and the Frogs,
and enunciating the law that the more highly any animal
is organised the more quickly does it pass through the
lower stages, Meckel goes on to say

* " Entwurf einer Darstellung der zwischen dem Embryozustande der
hoheren TMere und dem permanenten der mederen stattfindenden Paral-
lele," "Beytrage zur Vergleichenden Anatomic," Bd. ii. 1811.

310 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

"From these lowest Yertebrata to the highest, and to the
highest forms among these, the comparison between the embryonic
conditions of the higher animals and the adult states of the lower
can be more completely and thoroughly instituted than if the
survey is extended to the Invertebrata, inasmuch as the latter are
in many respects constructed upon an altogether too dissimilar
type ; indeed they often differ from one another far more than the
lowest vertebrate does from the highest mammal; yet the following
pages will show that the comparison may also be extended to them
with interest. In fact, there is a period when, as Aristotle long
ago said, the embryo of the highest animal has the form of a mere
worm; and, devoid of internal and external organisation, is merely
an almost structureless lump of polype-substance. Notwithstanding
the origin of organs, it still for a certain time, by reason of its want
of an internal bony skeleton, remains worm and mollu.sk, and only
later enters into the series of the Yertebrata, although traces of the
vertebral column even in the earliest periods testify its claim to a
place in that series." Op. cit. pp. 4, 5.

If MeckePs proposition is so far qualified, that the
comparison of adult with embryonic forms is restricted
within the limits of one type of organisation ; and, if it
is further recollected that the resemblance between the
permanent lower form and the embryonic stage of a
higher form is not special but general, it is in entire
accordance with modern embryology ; although there is
no branch of biology which has grown so largely, and
improved its methods so much, since MeckeFs time, as
this. In its original form, the doctrine of "arrest of de-
velopment," as advocated by Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire and
Serres, was no doubt an over-statement of the case. It
is not true, for example, that a fish is a reptile arrested
in its development, or that a reptile was ever a fish ; but
it is true that the reptile embryo, at one stage of its

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGT. 3H

development,, is an organism which, if it had an inde-
pendent existence, must "be classified among fishes ; and
all the organs of the reptile pass, in the course of their
development, through conditions which are closely analo.-
gous to those which are permanent in some fishes.

4. That branch of biology which is termed Morphol-
ogy is a commentary upon, and expansion of, the propo-
sition that widely different animals or plants, and widely
different parts of animals or plants, are constructed upon
the same plan. From the rough comparison of the
skeleton of a bird with that of a man by Belon, in the
sixteenth century (to go no farther back), down to the
theory of the limbs and the theory of the skull at the
present day; or, from the first demonstration of the
homologies of the parts of a flower by C. F. Wolff, to
the present elaborate analysis of the floral organs, mor-
phology exhibits a continual advance towards the demon-
stration of a fundamental unity among the seeming diver-
sities of living structures. And this demonstration has
been completed by the final establishment of the cell
theory, which involves the admission of a primitive con-
formity, not only of all the elementary structures in ani-
mals and plants respectively, but of those in the one of
these great divisions of living things with those in the
other. No a priori difficulty can be said to stand in the
way of evolution, when it can be shown that all animals
and all plants proceed by modes of development, which
are similar in principle, from a fundamental protoplas-
mic material.

14

312 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

5. The innumerable cases of structures, which are
rudimentary and apparently useless, in species, the close
allies of which possess well developed and functionally
important homologous structures, are readily intelligible
on the theory of evolution, while it is hard to conceive
their raison d'etre on any other hypothesis. However,
a cautious reasoner will probably rather explain such
cases deductively from the doctrine of evolution than
endeavour to support the doctrine of evolution by them.
For it is almost impossible to prove that any structure,
however rudimentary, is useless that is to say, that it
plays no part whatever in the economy ; and, if it is in
the slightest degree useful, there is no reason why, on
the hypothesis of direct creation, it should not have
been created. Nevertheless, double-edged as is the
argument from rudimentary organs, there is probably
none which has produced a greater effect in promoting
the general acceptance of the theory of evolution.

6. The older advocates of evolution sought for the
causes of the process exclusively in the influence of vary-
ing conditions, such as climate and station, or hybridi-
sation, upon living forms. Even Treviranus has got no
farther than this point. Lamarck introduced the con-
ception of the action of an animal on itself as a factor in
producing modification. Starting from the well-known
fact that the habitual use of a limb tends to develop the
muscles of the limb, and to produce a greater and
greater facility in using it, he made the general assump-
tion that the effort of an animal to exert an organ in a

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 313

given direction tends to develop the organ in that direc-
tion. But a little consideration showed that, though
Lamarck had seized what, as far as it goes, is a true
cause of modification, it is a cause the actual effects of
which are wholly inadequate to account for any consider-
able modification in animals, and which can have no in-
fluence at all in the vegetable world; and probably
nothing contributed so much to discredit evolution, in
the early part of this century, as the floods of easy ridi-
cule which were poured upon this part of Lamarck's
speculation. The theory of natural selection, or survival
of the fittest, was suggested by Wells in 1813, and fur-
ther elaborated by Matthew in 1831. But the pregnant
suggestions of these writers remained practically unno-
ticed and forgotten, until the theory was independently
devised and promulgated by Darwin and Wallace in
1858, and the effect of its publication was immediate
and profound.

Those who were unwilling to accept evolution, with-
out better grounds than such as are offered by Lamarck,
or the author of that particularly unsatisfactory book,
the " Yestiges of the Natural History of the Creation,"
and who therefore preferred to suspend their judgment
on the question, found, in the principle of selective
breeding, pursued in all its applications with marvellous
knowledge and skill by Mr. Darwin, a valid explanation
of the occurrence of varieties and races ; and they saw
clearly that, if the explanation would apply to species, it
would not only solve the problem of their evolution, but

314: EVOLUTION IN" BIOLOGY.

that it would account for the facts of teleology, as well
as for those of morphology ; and for the persistence of
some forms of life unchanged through long epochs of
time, while others undergo comparatively rapid meta-
morphosis.

How far " natural selection " suffices for the produc-
tion of species remains to be seen. Few can doubt that,
if not the whole cause, it is a very important factor in
that operation ; and that it must play a great part in the
sorting out of varieties into those which are transitory
and those which are permanent.

But the causes and conditions of variation have yet
to be thoroughly explored ; and the importance of natu-
ral selection will not be impaired, even if further in-
quiries should prove that variability is definite, and is
determined in certain directions rather than in others,
by conditions inherent in that which varies. It is quite
conceivable that every species tends to produce varieties
of a limited number and kind, and that the effect of
natural selection is to favour the development of some of
these, while it opposes the development of others along
their predetermined lines of modification.

7. "No truths brought to light by biological investiga-
tion were better calculated to inspire distrust of the dog-
mas intruded upon science in the name of theology, than
those which relate to the distribution of animals and
plants on the surface of the earth. Very skilful accom-
modation was needful, if the limitation of sloths to
South America, and of the ornithorhynchus to Australia,

EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY. 315

was to be reconciled with, the literal interpretation of
the history of the deluge ; and, with the establishment
of the existence of distinct provinces of distribution, any
serious belief in the peopling of the world by migration
from Mount Ararat came to an end.

Under these circumstances, only one alternative was
left for those who denied the occurrence of evolution
namely, the supposition that the characteristic animals
and plants of each great province were created, as such,
within the limits in which we find them. And as the
hypothesis of "specific centres," thus formulated, was
heterodox from the theological point of view, and unin-
telligible under its scientific aspect, it may be passed
over without further notice, as a phase of transition
from the creational to the evolutional hypothesis.

8. In fact, the strongest and most conclusive argu-
ments in favour of evolution are those which are based
upon the facts of geographical, taken in conjunction with
those of geological, distribution.

Both Mr. Darwin and Mr. "Wallace lay great stress on
the close relation which obtains between the existing
fauna of any region and that of the immediately ante-
cedent geological epoch in the same region ; and rightly,
for it is in truth inconceivable that there should be no
genetic connection between the two. It is possible to
put into words the proposition that all the animals and
plants of each geological epoch were annihilated, and
that a new set of very similar forms was created for
the next epoch ; but it may be doubted if any one who

316 EVOLUTION IN BIOLOGY.

ever tried to form a distinct mental image of this process
of spontaneous generation on the grandest scale,, ever
really succeeded In realising it.

Within the last twenty years, the attention of the
best palaeontologists has been withdrawn from the hod-
man's work of making "new species" of fossils, to the
scientific task of completing our knowledge of individual
species, and tracing out the succession of the forms pre-
sented by any given type in time.

Those who desire to inform themselves of the nature
and extent of the evidence bearing on these questions
may consult the works of Eiitimeyer, G-audry, Kowalew-
sky, Marsh, and the writer of the present article. It
must suffice, in this place, to say that the successive
forms of the Equine type have been fully worked out ;
while those of nearly all the other existing types of Un-
gulate mammals and of the Carniwra have been nearly
as closely followed through the Tertiary deposits ; the
gradations between birds and reptiles have been traced ;
and the modifications undergone by the Crocodilia, from
the Triassic epoch, to the present day, have been demon-
strated. On the evidence of palaeontology, the evolu-
tion of many existing forms of animal life from their
predecessors is no longer an hypothesis, but an historical
fact; it is only the nature of the physiological factors
to which that evolution is due which is still open to
discussion.

XII.

THE COMING OF AGE OF "THE OBIGIN" OF
SPECIES. 53

of you will "be familiar with the aspect of this
small green-covered book. It is a copy of the first edi-
tion of the " Origin of Species," and bears the date of its-
production the 1st of Octoher 1859. Only a few
months, therefore, are needed to complete the full tale
of twenty-one years since its birthday.

Those whose memories carry them back to this time
will remember that the infant was remarkably lively,
and that a great number of excellent persons mistook its
manifestations of a vigorous individuality for mere
naughtiness; in fact there was a very pretty turmoil
about its cradle. My recollections of the period are par-
ticularly vivid ; for, having conceived a tender affection
for a child of what appeared to me to be such remark-
able promise, I acted for some time in the capacity of a
sort of under-nurse, and thus came in for my share of
the storms which threatened the very life of the young
creature. For some years it was undoubtedly warm
work ; but considering how exceedingly unpleasant the

318 THE COMING OF AGE OF

apparition of the new-comer must have been to those
who did not fall in love with him at first sight, I think
it is to the credit of our age that the war was not fiercer,
and that the more bitter and unscrupulous forms of
opposition died away as soon as they did.

I speak of this period as of something past and
gone, possessing merely an historical, I had almost
said an antiquarian interest. For, during the second
decade of the existence of the " Origin of Species,"
opposition, though by no means dead, assumed a differ-
ent aspect. On the part of all those who had any
reason to respect themselves, it assumed a thoroughly
respectful character. By this time, the dullest began to
perceive that the child was not likely to perish of any
congenital weakness or infantile disorder, but was grow-
ing into a stalwart personage, upon whom mere goody
scoldings and threatenings with the birch-rod were
quite thrown away.

In factj those who have watched the progress of sci-
ence within the last ten years will bear me out to the
full, when I assert that there is no field of biological
inquiry in which the influence of the " Origin of Spe-
cies" is not traceable; the foremost men of science in
every country are either avowed champions of its lead-
ing doctrines, or at any rate abstain from opposing
them ; a host of young and ardent investigators seek
for and find inspiration and guidance in Mr. Darwin's
great work; and the general doctrine of evolution, to
one side of which it gives expression, obtains, in the

"THE ORIGIN" OF SPECIES." 319

phenomena of biology, a firm base of operations whence
it may conduct its conquest of the whole realm of
nature.

History warns us, however, that it is the customary
fate of new truths to begin as heresies and to end as
superstitions ; and, as matters now stand, it is hardly
rash to anticipate that, in another twenty years, the
new generation, educated under the influences of the
present day, will be in danger of accepting the main
doctrines of the (c Origin of Species," with as little re-
flection, and it may be with as little justification, as
so many of our contemporaries, twenty years ago, re-
jected them.

Against any such a consummation let us all devoutly
pray ; for the scientific spirit is of more value than its
products, and irrationally held truths may be more
harmful than reasoned errors. Now the essence of the
scientific spirit is criticism. It tells us that whenever
a doctrine claims our assent we should reply, Take it
if you can compel it. The struggle for existence holds
as much in the intellectual as in the physical world.
A theory is a species of thinking, and its right to exist
is coextensive with its power of resisting extinction
by its rivals.

From this point of view, it appears to me that it
would be but a poor way of celebrating the Coming
of Age of the "Origin of Species," were I merely to
dwell npon the facts, undoubted and remarkable as
they are, of its far-reaching influence and of the great

320 THE COMING- OF AGE OF

following of ardent disciples who are occupied in spread-
ing and developing its doctrines. Mere insanities and
inanities have before now swollen to portentous size
in the course of twenty years. Let us rather ask this
prodigious change in opinion to justify itself; let us
inquire whether anything has happened since 1859,
which will explain, on rational grounds, why so many
are worshipping that which they burned, and burning
that which they worshipped. It is only in this way
that we shall acquire the means of judging whether
the movement we have witnessed is a mere eddy of
fashion, or truly one with the irreversible current of
intellectual progress, and, like it, safe from retrogres-
sive reaction.

Every belief is the product of two factors : the first
is the state of the mind to "which the evidence in favour
of that belief is presented; and the second is the logi-
cal cogency of the evidence itself. In both these re-
spects, the history of biological science during the last
twenty years appears to me to afford an ample explana-
tion of the change which has taken place ; and a brief
consideration of the salient events of that history will
enable us to understand why, if the " Origin of Spe-
cies " appeared now, it would meet with a very different
reception from that which greeted it in. 1859.

One-and-twenty years ago, in spite of the work com-
menced by Hutton and continued with rare skill and
patience by Lyell, the dominant view of the past history
of the earth was catastrophic. Great and sudden physi-

"THE OBIGIK OF SPECIES." 321

cal revolutions, wholesale creations and extinctions of
living beings, were the ordinary machinery of the geo-
logical epic brought into fashion by the misapplied
genius of Ouvier. It was gravely maintained and
taught that the end of every geological epoch was sig-
nalised by a cataclysm, by which every living being
on the globe was swept away, to be replaced by a brand-
new creation when the world returned to quiescence.
A scheme of nature which appeared to be modelled on
the likeness of a succession of rubbers of whist, at the
end of each -of which the players upset the table and
called for a new pack, did not seem to shock anybody.

I may be wrong, but I doubt if, at the present time,
there is a single responsible representative of these
opinions left. The progress of scientific geology has
elevated the fundamental principle of uniformitarian-
ism, that the explanation of the past is to be sought
in the study of the present, into the position of an
axiom ; and the wild speculations of the catastrophists,
to which we all listened with respect a quarter of a
century ago, would hardly find a single patient hearer
at the present day, No physical geologist now dreams
of seeking, outside the range of known natural causes,
for the explanation of anything that happened millions
of years ago, any more than he would be guilty of the
like absurdity in regard to current events.

The effect of this change of opinion upon biological
speculation is obvious. For, if there have been no
periodical general physical catastrophes, what brought

322 THE COMING OF AGE OP

about the assumed general extinctions and re-creations
of life which are the corresponding biological catas-
trophes? And, if no such interruptions of the ordi-
nary course of nature have taken place in the organic,
any more than in the inorganic, world, what alternative
is there to the admission of evolution?

The doctrine of evolution in biology is the neces-
sary result of the logical application of the principles
of uniformitarianism to the phenomena of life. Dar-
win is the natural successor of Hutton and Lyell, and
the "Origin of Species" the logical sequence of the
"Principles of Geology."

The fundamental doctrine of the "Origin of Spe-
cies," as of all forms of the theory of evolution applied
to biology, is "that the innumerable species, genera, and
families of organic beings with which the world is peo-
pled have all descended, each within its own class or
group, from common parents, and have all been modi-
fied in the course of descent." *

And, in view of the facts of geology, it follows that
all living animals and plants "are the lineal descend-
ants of those which lived long before the Silurian
epoch. 3 ' f

It is an obvious consequence of this theory of descent
with modification, as it is sometimes called, that all plants
and animals, however different they may now be, must 3
at one time or other, have been connected by direct
or indirect intermediate gradations, and that the ap-

* " Origin of Species," ed. 1, p. 467.

"THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES." 323

pearance of isolation presented by various groups of
organic beings must be unreal.

"No part of Mr. Darwin's work ran more directly
counter to the prepossessions of naturalists twenty years
ago than this. And such prepossessions were very ex-
cusable, for there was undoubtedly a great deal to be
said, at that time, in favour of the fixity of species and
of the existence of great breaks, which there was no
obvious or probable means of filling up, between various
groups of organic beings.

For various reasons, scientific and unscientific, much
had been made of the hiatus between man and the rest
of the higher mammalia, and it is no wonder that issue
was first joined on this part of the controversy. I have
no wish to revive past and happily forgotten contro-
versies; but I must state the simple fact that the dis-
tinctions in the cerebral and other characters, which
were so hotly affirmed to separate man from all other
animals in 1860, have all been demonstrated to be non-
existent, and that the contrary doctrine is now univer-
sally accepted and taught.

But there were other cases in which the wide struct-
ural gaps asserted to exist between one group of ani-
mals and another were by no means fictitious ; and, when
such structural breaks were real, Mr. Darwin could ac-
count for them only by supposing that the intermediate
forms which once existed had become extinct. In a re-
markable passage he says

" We may thus account even for the distinctness of

THE COMING- OF AGE OF

whole classes from each other for instance^ of birds
from all other vertebrate animals by the belief that
many animal forms of life have been utterly lost,
through which the early progenitors of birds were for-
merly connected with the early progenitors of the other
vertebrate classes."*

Adverse criticism made merry over such suggestions
as these. Of course it was easy to get out of the dif-
ficulty by supposing extinction; but where was the
slightest evidence that such intermediate forms between
birds and reptiles as the hypothesis required ever ex-
isted? And then probably followed a tirade upon this
terrible forsaking of the paths of "Baconian induc-
tion."

But the progress of knowledge has justified Mr. Dar-
win to an extent which could hardly have been antici-
pated. In 1862, the specimen of Archceopteryx, which,
until the last two or three years, has remained unique,
was discovered ; and it is an animal which, in its feathers
and the greater part of its organisation, is a veritable
bird, while, in other parts, it is as distinctly reptilian.

In 1868, 1 had the honour of bringing under your
notice, in this theatre, the results of investigations made,
up to that time, into the anatomical characters of cer-
tain ancient reptiles, which showed the nature of the
modifications in virtue of which the type of the quad-
rupedal reptile passed into that of a bipedal bird ; and
abundant confirmatory evidence of the justice of the
* " Origin of Species," p. 431.

"THE OEIGIF OF SPECIES." 325

conclusions which I then laid before you has since come
to light.

In 1875, the discovery of the toothed birds of the
cretaceous formation in North America by Professor
Marsh completed the series of transitional forms be-
tween birds and reptiles, and removed Mr. Darwin's
proposition that " many animal forms of life have been
utterly lost, through which the early progenitors of birds
were formerly connected with the early progenitors of
the other vertebrate classes," from the region of hy-
pothesis to that of demonstrable fact.

In 1859, there appeared to be a very sharp and clear
hiatus between vertebrated and invertebrated animals,
not only in their structure, but, what was more impor-
tant, in their development. I do not think that we even
yet know the precise links of connection between the
two ; but the investigations of Kowalewsky and others
upon the development of Amphwxus and of the Tuni-
cata prove, beyond, a doubt, that the differences which
were supposed to constitute a barrier between the two
are non-existent. There is no longer any difficulty in
understanding how the vertebrate type may have arisen
from the invertebrate, though the full proof of the man-
ner in which the transition was actually effected may
still be lacking.

Again, in 1859, there appeared to be a no less sharp
separation between the two great groups of flowering
and flowerless plants. It is only subsequently that the
series of remarkable investigations inaugurated by Hof-

326 THE COMING OF AGE OF

meister lias brought to light the extraordinary and alto-
gether unexpected modifications of the reproductive ap-
paratus in the I/ycopodiacecB, the Rhizocarpece, and the
Gymnospermece, by which the ferns and the mosses are
gradually connected with the Phanerogamic division of
the vegetable world.

So, again, it is only since 1859 that we have acquired
that wealth of knowledge of the lowest forms of life
which demonstrates the futility of any attempt to sep-
arate the lowest plants from the lowest animals, and
shows that the two kingdoms of living nature have a
common borderland which belongs to both or to neither.

Thus it will be observed that the whole tendency
of biological investigation, since 1859, has been in the
direction of removing the difficulties which the apparent
breaks in the series created at that time ; and the recog-
nition of gradation is the first step towards the accept-
ance of evolution.

As another great factor in bringing about the change
of opinion which has taken place among naturalists, I
count the astonishing progress which has been made in
the study of embryology. Twenty years ago, not only
were we devoid of any accurate knowledge of the mode
of development of many groups of animals and plants,
but the methods of investigation were rude and imper-
fect. At the present time, there is no important group
of organic beings the development of which has not been
carefully studied ; and the modern methods of harden-
ing and section-making enable the embryologist to de-

"THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES."" 327

termine the nature of the process, in each case, with a
degree of minuteness and accuracy which is truly aston-
ishing to those whose memories carry them hack to the
beginnings of modern histology. And the results of
these embryologieal investigations are in complete har-
mony with the requirements of the doctrine of evolu-
tion. The first beginnings of all the higher forms of
animal life are similar, and however diverse their adult
conditions, they start from a common foundation. More-
over, the process of development of the animal or the
plant from its primary egg or germ is a true process of
evolution a progress from almost formless to more or
less highly organised matter, in virtue of the properties
inherent in that matter.

To those who are familiar with the process of devel-
opment, all a priori objections to the doctrine of biologi-
cal evolution appear childish. Any one who has watched
the gradual formation of a complicated animal from the
protoplasmic mass, which constitutes the essential ele-
ment of a frog's or a hen's egg, has had under his eyes
sufficient evidence that a similar evolution of the whole
animal world from the like foundation is, at any rate,
possible.

Yet another product of investigation has largely con-
tributed to the removal of the objections to the doctrine
of evolution current in 1859. It is the proof afforded
by successive discoveries that Mr. Darwin did not over-
estimate the imperfection of the geological record. No
more striking illustration of this is needed than a com-

328 THE COMING OF AGE OF

parison of our knowledge of tlie mammalian fauna of
the Tertiary epoch in 1859 with its present condition.
M. G-audry's researches on the fossils of Pikermi were
published in 1868, those of Messrs. Leidy, Marsh, and
Cope, on the fossils of the Western Territories of Amer-
ica, have appeared almost wholly since 1870, those of M.
Filhol on the phosphorites of Quercy in 1878. The gen-
eral effect of these investigations has been to introduce
to us a multitude of extinct animals, the existence of
which was previously hardly suspected ; just as if zoolo-
gists were to become acquainted with a country, hitherto
unknown, as rich in novel forms of life as Brazil or
South Africa once were to Europeans. Indeed, the fos-
sil fauna of the "Western Territories of America bids fair
to exceed in interest and importance all other known
Tertiary deposits put together; and yet, with the ex-
ception of the case of the American tertiaries, these in-
vestigations have extended over very limited areas ; and,
at Pikermi, were confined to an extremely small space*

Such appear to me to be the chief events in the his-
tory of the progress of knowledge during the last twenty
years, which account for the changed feeling with which
the doctrine of evolution is at present regarded by those
who have followed the advance of biological science, in
respect of those problems which bear indirectly upon
that doctrine.

But all this remains mere secondary evidence. It
may remove dissent, but it does not compel assent. Pri-

"THE ORIGIN OE SPECIES." 329

mary and direct evidence in favour of evolution can be
f urnislied only by palaeontology. The geological record,
so soon as it approaches completeness, must, when prop-
erly questioned, yield either an affirmative or a negative
answer : if evolution has taken place, there will its mark
be left ; if it has not taken place, there will lie its refu-
tation.

"What was the state of matters in 1859 ? Let us hear
Mr. Darwin, who may be trusted always to state the case
against himself as strongly as possible.

" On this doctrine of the extermination of an infini-
tude of connecting links between the living and extinct
inhabitants of the world, and at each successive period
between the extinct and still older species, why is not
every geological formation charged with such links?
Why does not every collection of fossil remains afford
plain evidence of the gradation and mutation of the
forms of life? "We meet with no such evidence, and
this is the most obvious and plausible of the many ob-
jections which may be urged against my theory."*

Nothing could have been more useful to the oppo-
sition than this characteristically candid avowal, twisted
as it immediately was into an admission that the writer's
views were contradicted by the facts of palaeontology.
But, in fact, Mr. Darwin made no such admission. What
he says in effect is, not that palseontological evidence is
against him, but that it is not distinctly in his favour ;
and, without attempting to attenuate the fact, he ac-
* " Origin of Species," ed. 1, p. 463.

330 THE COMING- OF AG-E OF

counts for it by the scantiness and the imperfection of
that evidence.

What is the state of the case now, when, as we
have seen, the amount of our knowledge respecting
the mammalia of the Tertiary epoch is increased fifty-
fold, and in some directions even approaches complete-
ness?

Simply this, that, if the doctrine of evolution had
not existed, palaeontologists must have invented it, so
irresistibly is it forced upon the mind by the study of
the remains of the Tertiary mammalia which have been
brought to light since 1859.

Among the fossils of Pikermi, G-audry found the
successive stages by which the ancient civets passed into
the more modern hyaenas ; through the Tertiary deposits
of Western America, Marsh tracked the successive forms
by which the ancient stock of the horse has passed into
its present form ; and innumerable less complete indica-
tions of the mode of evolution of other groups of the
higher mammalia have been obtained. In the remark-
able memoir on the phosphorites of Quercy, to which I
have referred, M. Filhol describes no fewer than seven-
teen varieties of the genus OynodictiSj which fill up all
the interval between the viverine animals and the bear-
like dog AmpMcyon; nor do I know any solid ground
of objection to the supposition that, in this Cynodictis-
AmpMcyon group, we have the stock whence all the
Yiveridse, Felidee, Hysenidse, Canidse, and perhaps the
Procyonidse and Ursidae, of the present fauna have been

"THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES." 331

evolved. On the contrary, there is a great deal to be
said in favour.

In the conrse of summing up his results, M. Filhol
observes :

" During the epoch of the phosphorites, great changes
took place in animal forms, and almost the same types
as those which now exist became defined from one an-
other.

" Under the influence of natural conditions of which
we have no exact knowledge, though traces of them are
discoverable, species have been modified in a thousand
ways : races have arisen which, becoming fixed, have
thus produced a corresponding number of secondary
species."

In 1859, language of which this is an unintentional
paraphrase, occurring in the " Origin of Species," was
scouted as wild speculation; at present, it is a sober
statement of the conclusions to which an acute and
critically-minded investigator is led by large and patient
study of the facts of palaeontology. I venture to repeat
what I have said before, that, so far as the animal world
is concerned, evolution is no longer a speculation, but a
statement of historical fact. It takes its place alongside
of those accepted truths which must be reckoned with by
philosophers of all schools.

Thus when, on the first day of October next, the
"Origin of Species" comes of age, the promise of its
youth will be amply fulfilled ; and we shall be prepared
to congratulate the venerated author of the book, not.

332 "THE OKIGIF OF SPECIES,"

only that the greatness of Ms achievement and its eu-
chring influence upon the progress of knowledge have
won him a place beside our Harvey ; but) still more, that,
like Harvey, he has lived long enough to outlast detrac-
tion and opposition, and to see the stone that the builders
rejected become the head-stone of the corner.

XIIL

THE CONNECTION" OF THE BIOLOGICAL

SCIENCES WITH MEDICINE.

THE great body of theoretical and practical knowl-
edge which has been accumulated by the labours of some
eighty generations, since the dawn of scientific thought
in Europe, has no collective English name to which an
objection may not be raised ; and I use the term " medi-
cine " as that which is least likely to be misunderstood ;
though, as every one knows, the name is commonly ap-
plied, in a narrower sense, to one of the chief divisions
of the totality of medical science.

Taken in this broad sense, " medicine" not merely
denotes a kind of knowledge, but it comprehends the
various applications of that knowledge to the alleviation
of the sufferings, the repair of the injuries, and the con-
servation of the health, of living beings. In fact, the
practical aspect of medicine so far dominates over every
other, that the " Healing Art " is one of its most widely-
received synonyms. It is so difficult to think of medi-
cine otherwise than as something which is necessarily
connected with curative treatment, that we are apt to
forget that there must be, and is, such a thing as a pure

334 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

science of medicine a " pathology " which, has no more
necessary subservience to practical ends than has zoology
or botany.

The logical connection between this purely scientific
doctrine of disease, or pathology, and ordinary biology,
is easily traced. Living matter is characterised by its
innate tendency to exhibit a definite series of the mor-
phological and physiological phenomena which constitute
organisation and life. Given a certain range of condi-
tions, and these phenomena remain the same, within
narrow limits, for each kind of living thing. They fur-
nish the normal and typical character of the species, and,
as such, they are the subject-matter of ordinary biology.

Outside the range of these conditions, the normal
course of the cycle of vital phenomena is disturbed ; ab-
normal structure makes its appearance, or the proper
character and mutual adjustment of the functions cease
to be preserved. The extent and the importance of
these deviations from the typical life may vary Indefi-
nitely. They may have no noticeable influence on the
general well-being of the economy, or they may favour it.
On the other hand, they may be of such a nature as to
impede the activities of the organism, or even to involve
its destruction.

In the first case, these perturbations are ranged under
the wide and somewhat vague category of " variations ; "
in the second, they are called lesions, states of poisoning,
or diseases; and, as morbid states, they lie within the
province of pathology. No sharp line of demarcation

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 335

can be drawn between the two classes of phenomena.
JSTo one can say where anatomical variations end and
tumours begin, nor where modification of function, which
may at first promote health, passes into disease. All
that can be said is, that whatever change of structure or
function is hurtful belongs to pathology. Hence it is
obvious that pathology is a branch of biology ; it is the
morphology, the physiology, the distribution, the setio-
logy of abnormal life.

However obvious this conclusion may be now, it was
nowise apparent in the infancy of medicine. Eor it is
a peculiarity of the physical sciences, that they are in-
dependent in proportion as they are imperfect ; and it
is only as they advance that the bonds which really
unite them all become apparent. Astronomy had no
manifest connection with terrestrial physics before the
publication of the " Principia ; " that of chemistry with
physics is of still more modern revelation ; that of phys-
ics and chemistry with physiology, has been stoutly de-
nied within the recollection of most of us, and perhaps
still may be.

Or, to take a case which affords a closer parallel with
that of medicine. Agriculture has been cultivated from
the earliest times, and, from a remote antiquity, men
have attained considerable practical skill in the cultiva-
tion of the useful plants, and have empirically estab-
lished many scientific truths concerning the conditions
under which they flourish. But, it is within the mem-
ory of many of us, that chemistry on the one hand, and

15

336 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

vegetable physiology on tlie other, attained a stage of
development such that they were able to furnish a sound
basis for scientific agriculture. Similarly, medicine took
its rise in the practical needs of mankind. At first,
studied without reference to any other branch of knowl-
edge, it long maintained, indeed still to some extent
maintains, that independence. Historically, its connec-
tion with the biological sciences has been slowly estab-
lished, and the full extent and intimacy of that connec-
tion are only now beginning to be apparent. I trust I
have not been mistaken in supposing that an attempt to
give a brief sketch of the steps by which a philosophical
necessity has become an historical reality, may not be
devoid of interest, possibly of instruction, to the mem-
bers of this great Congress, profoundly interested as all
are in the scientific development of medicine.

The history of medicine is more complete and fuller
than that of any other science, except, perhaps, astron-
omy ; and, if we follow back the long record as far as
clear evidence lights us, we find ourselves taken to the
early stages of the civilisation of Greece. The oldest
hospitals were the temples of JEsculapius; to these
Asclepeia, always erected on healthy sites, hard by fresh
springs and surrounded by shady groves, the sick and
the maimed resorted to seek the aid of the god of health,
Votive tablets or inscriptions recorded the symptoms,
no less than the gratitude, of those who were healed ;
and, from these primitive clinical records, the half-
priestly, talf-philosophic caste of the Asclepiads com-

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 337

piled the data upon which the earliest generalisations
of medicine, as an inductive science, were based.

In this state, pathology, like all the inductive sciences
at their origin, was merely natural history ; it registered
the phenomena of disease, classified them, and ventured
upon a prognosis, wherever the observation of constant
co-existences and sequences suggested a rational expec-
tation of the like recurrence under similar circumstances.

Further than this it hardly went. In fact, in the
then state of knowledge, and in the condition of philo-
sophical speculation at that time, neither the causes of
the morbid state, nor the rationale of treatment, were
likely to be sought for as we seek for them now. The
anger of a god was a sufficient reason for the existence
of a malady, and a dream ample warranty for therapeu-
tic measures ; that a physical phenomenon must needs
have a physical cause was not the implied or expressed
axiom that it is to us moderns.

The great man whose name is inseparately connected
with the foundation of medicine, Hippocrates, certainly
knew very little, indeed practically nothing, of anatomy
or physiology ; and he would, probably, have been per-
plexed, even to imagine the possibility of a connection
between the zoological studies of his contemporary
Democritus and medicine. Nevertheless, in so far as
he, and those who worked before and after him, in the
same spirit, ascertained, as matters of experience, that a
wound, or a luxation, ,or a fever, presented such and such
symptoms, and that the return of the patient to health

338 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

was facilitated by suet and such measures, they estab-
lished laws of nature, and began the construction of the
science of pathology. All true science begins with em-
piricism though all true science is such exactly, in so
far as it strives to pass out of the empirical stage into
that of the deduction of empirical from more general
truths. Thus, it is not wonderful, that the early physi-
cians had little or nothing to do with the development
of biological science ; and, on the other hand, that the
early biologists did not much concern themselves with
medicine. There is nothing to show that the Asclepiads
took any prominent share in the work of founding anat-
omy, physiology, zoology, and botany. Bather do these
seern to have sprung from the early philosophers, who
were, essentially natural philosophers, animated by the
characteristically Greek thirst for knowledge as such.
Pythagoras, Alcmeon, Democritus, Diogenes of Apol-
lonia, are all credited with anatomical and physiological
investigations ; and, though Aristotle is said to have be-
longed to an Asclepiad family, and not improbably owed
his taste for anatomical and zoological inquiries to the
teachings of his father, the physician Mcomachus, the
" Historia Anirnalium," and the treatise " De Partibus
Animalium," are as free from any allusion to medicine
as if they had issued from a modern biological laboratory.
It may be added, that it is not easy to see in what
way it could have benefited a physician of Alexander's
time to know all that Aristotle knew on these subjects.
His human anatomy was too rough to avail much in

THE BIOLOG-ICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 339

diagnosis ; Ms physiology was too erroneous to supply
data for pathological reasoning. But when the Alex-
andrian school, with Erasistratus and Herophilus at their
head, turned to account the opportunities of studying
human structure, afforded to them by the Ptolemies,
the value of the large amount of accurate knowledge
thus obtained to the surgeon for his operations, and to
the physician for his diagnosis of internal disorders,
became obvious, and a connection was established be-
tween anatomy and medicine, which has ever become
closer and closer. Since the revival of learning, sur-
gery, medical diagnosis, and anatomy have gone hand
in hand. Morgagni called his great work, " De sedibus
et causis morborum per anatomen indagatis," and not
only showed the way to search out the localities and the
causes of disease by anatomy, but himself travelled
wonderfully far upon the road. Bichat, discriminating
the grosser constituents of the organs and parts of the
body, one from another, pointed out the direction which
modern research must take ; until, at length, histology,
a science of yesterday, as it seems to many of us, has
carried the work of Morgagni as far as the microscope
can take us, and has extended the realm of pathologi-
cal anatomy to the limits of the invisible world.

Thanks to the intimate alliance of morphology with
medicine, the natural history of disease has, at the pres-
ent day, attained a high degree of perfection. Accurate
regional anatomy has rendered practicable the explora-
tion of the most hidden parts of the organism, and the

34:0 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

determination, during life, of morbid changes in them ;
anatomical and- histological post-mortem investigations
liave supplied physicians with a clear basis upon which
to rest the classification of diseases, and with unerr-
ing tests of the accuracy or inaccuracy of their diag-
noses.

If men could be satisfied with pure knowledge, the
extreme precision with which, in these days, a sufferer
may be told what is happening, and what is likely to
happen, even in the most recondite parts of his bodily
frame, should be as satisfactory to the patient as it is to
the scientific pathologist who gives him the information.
But I am afraid it is not ; and even the practising phy-
sician, while nowise underestimating the regulative value
of accurate diagnosis, must often lament that so much
of his knowledge rather prevents him from doing wrong
than helps him to do right.

A scorner of physic once said that nature and disease
may be compared to two men fighting, the doctor to a
blind man with a club, who strikes into the melee, some-
times hitting the disease, and sometimes hitting nature.
The matter is not mended if you suppose the blind man's
hearing to be so acute that he can register every stage
of the struggle, and pretty clearly predict how it will
end. He had better not meddle at all, until his eyes
are opened until he can see the exact position of the
antagonists, and make sure of the effect of his blows.
But that which it behoves the physician to see, not, in-
deed, with his bodily eye, but with clear, intellectual

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 341

vision, is a process, and the cliain of causation involved
in that process. Disease, as we have seen, is a perturba-
tion of the normal activities of a living body, and it is,
and must remain, unintelligible, so long as we are ig-
norant of the nature of these normal activities. In other
words, there could be no real science of pathology until
the science of physiology had reached a degree of per-
fection unattained, and indeed unattainable, until quite
recent times.

So far as medicine is concerned, I am not sure that
physiology, such as it was down to the time of Harvey,
might as well not have existed. Nay, it is perhaps no
exaggeration to say that, within the memory of living
men, justly renowned practitioners of medicine and sur-
gery knew less physiology than is now to be learned
from the most elementary text-book ; and, beyond a few
broad facts, regarded what they did know as of ex-
tremely little practical importance. Nor am I disposed
to blame them for this conclusion ; physiology must be
useless, or worse than useless, to pathology, so long as
its fundamental conceptions are erroneous.

Harvey is often said to be the founder of modern
physiology ; and there can be no question that the elu-
cidations of the function of the heart, of the nature of
the pulse, and of the course of the blood, put forth in
the ever-memorable little essay, "De motu cordis," di-
rectly worked a revolution in men's views of the nature
and of the concatenation of some of the most important
physiological processes among the higher animals ; while,

342 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

indirectly, their influence was perhaps even more re-
markable.

But, though Harvey made this signal and perenni-
ally important contribution to the physiology of the
moderns, his general conception of vital processes was
essentially identical with that of the ancients; and, in
the "Exercitationes de genei*atione," and notably in the
singular chapter " De calido innato," he shows himself
a true son of Galen and of Aristotle.

For Harvey, the blood possesses powers superior to
those of the elements ; it is the seat of a soul which is
not only vegetative, but also sensitive and motor. The
blood maintains and fashions all parts of the body, " id-
que summd cum providentiA et intellectu in finem cer-
tum agens, quasi ratiocinio quodam uteretur."

Here is the doctrine of the "pneuma," the product
of the philosophical mould into which the animism of
primitive men ran in Greece, in full force. IsTor did its
strength abate for long after Harvey's time. The same
ingrained tendency of the human mind to suppose that
a process is explained when it is ascribed to a power of
which nothing is known except that it is the hypothetical
agent of the process, gave rise, in the next century, to
the animism of Stahl; and, later, to the doctrine of a
vital principle, that " asylum ignorantiaa " of physiolo-
gists, which has so easily accounted for everything and
explained nothing, down to our own times.

Now the essence of modern, as contrasted with an-
cient, physiological science appeals to me to lie in its

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 343

antagonism to animistic hypotheses and animistic phrase-
ology. It offers physical explanations of vital phenom-
ena, or frankly confesses that it has none to offer. And,
so far as I know, the first person who gave expression
to this modern view of physiology, who was bold enongh
to enunciate the proposition that vital phenomena, like
all the other phenomena of the physical world, are, in
ultimate analysis, resolvable into matter and motion, was
Rene Descartes.

The fifty-four years of life of this most original and
powerful thinker are widely overlapped, on both sides,
by the eighty of Harvey, who survived his younger con-
temporary by seven years, and takes pleasure in acknowl-
edging the French philosopher's appreciation of his great
discovery.

In fact, Descartes accepted the doctrine of the circu-
lation as propounded by "Harv^us m&lecin d'Angle-
terre," and gave a full account of it in Ms first work,
the famous "Discoms de la Methode/ 5 which was pub-
lished in 1637, only nine years after the exercitation
" De xnotu cordis; 53 and, thought differing from Harvey
on some important points (in which it may be noted, in
passing, Descartes was wrong and Harvey right), he
always speaks of him with great respect. And so im-
portant, does the subject seem to Descartes, that he re-
turns to it in the "Trait6 des Passions," and in the
" Traite de PHonnne."

It is easy to see that Harvey's work must have had
a peculiar significance for the subtle thinker, to whom

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

we owe botli the spiritualistic and the materialistic phi-
losophies of modern times. It was in the very year of
its publication, 1628, that Descartes withdrew into that
life of solitary investigation and meditation of which
his philosophy was the fruit. And, as the course of his
speculations led him to establish an absolute distinction
of nature between the material and the mental worlds,
he was logically compelled to seek for the explanation
of the phenomena of the material world within itself;
and having allotted the realm of thought to the soul,
to see nothing but extension and motion in the rest of
nature. Descartes uses " thought " as the equivalent of
our modern term "consciousness." Thought is the func-
tion of the soul, and its only function. Our natural
heat and all the movements of the body, says he, do not
depend on the soul. Death does not take place from
any fault of the soul, but only because some of the prin-
cipal parts of the body become corrupted. The body of
a living man differs from that of a dead man in the same
way as a watch or other automaton (that is to say, a ma-
chine which moves of itself) when it is wound up and
has, in itself, the physical principle of the movements
which the mechanism is adapted to perform, differs from
the same watch, or other machine, when it is broken,
and the physical principle of its movement no longer
exists. All the actions which are common to us and
the lower animals depend only on the conformation of
our organs, and the course which the animal spirits take
in the brain, the nerves, a.nd the muscles ; in the same

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 345

way as the moyement of a watch is produced by noth-
ing but the force of its spring and the figure of its
wheels and other parts.

Descartes' " Treatise on Man " is a sketch of human
physiology, in which a bold attempt is made to explain
all the phenomena of life, except those of consciousness,
by physical reasonings. To a mind turned in this direc-
tion, Harvey's exposition of the heart and vessels as a
hydraulic mechanism must have been supremely wel-
come.

Descartes was not a mere philosophical theorist, but
a hardworking dissector and experimenter, and he held
the strongest opinion respecting the practical value of
the new conception which he was introducing. He
speaks of the importance of preserving health, and of
the dependence of the mind on the body being so close
that, perhaps, the only way of making men wiser and
better than they are, is to be sought in medical science.
a It is true," says he, " that as medicine is now practised,
it contains little that is very useful; but without any
desire to depreciate, I am sure that there is no one, even
among professional men, who will not declare that all
we know is very little as compared with that which re-
mains to be known ; and that we might escape an infin-
ity of diseases of the mind, no less than of the body,
and even perhaps from the weakness of old age, if we
had sufficient knowledge of their causes, and of all the
remedies with which nature has provided us."* So

* "DIscours de la M6thode," 6 e partie, Ed. Cousin, p. 193.

346 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

strongly impressed was Descartes with this, that lie re-
solved to spend the. rest of his life in trying to acquire
such a knowledge of nature as would lead to the con-
struction of a better medical doctrine.* The anti-Car-
tesians found material for cheap ridicule in these aspira-
tions of the philosopher ; and it is almost needless to say
that, in the thirteen years which elapsed between the
publication of the " Discours " and the death of Des-
cartes, he did not contribute much to their realisation.
But, for the next century, all progress in physiology
took place along the lines which Descartes laid down.

The greatest physiological and pathological work of
the seventeenth century, Borelli's treatise "De Motu
Animalium," is, to all intents and purposes, a develop-
ment of Descartes' fundamental conception; and the
same may be said of the physiology and pathology of
Boerhaave, whose authority dominated in the medical
world of the first half of the eighteenth century.

With the origin of modern chemistry, and of elec-
trical science, in the latter half of the eighteenth cen-
tury, aids in the analysis of the phenomena of life, of
which Descartes could not have dreamed, were offered
to the physiologist. And the greater part of the gigan-
tic progress which has been made in the present century
is a justification of the prevision of Descartes. For it
consists, essentially, in a more and more complete reso-
lution of the grosser organs of the living body into
physico-chemical mechanisms.

* "Discours de la M^thode," 6 e partie, Ed. Cousin, pp. 193 and 211.

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 34?

" I shall try to explain our wliole bodily machinery
in such a way, that it will be no more necessary for us
to suppose that the soul produces such movements as
are not voluntary, than it is to think that there is in a
clock a soul which causes it to show the hours*" * These
words of Descartes might be appropriately taken as a
motto by the author of any modern treatise on physi-
ology.

But though, as I think, there is no doubt that Des-
cartes was the first to propound the fundamental concep-
tion of the living body as a physical mechanism, which
is the distinctive feature of modern, as contrasted with
ancient physiology, he was misled by the natural tempta-
tion to carry out, in all its details, a parallel between the
machines with which he was familiar, such as clocks and
pieces of hydraulic apparatus, and the living machine.
In all such machines there is a central source of power,
and the parts of the machine are merely passive distrib-
utors of that power. The Cartesian school conceived of
the living body as a machine of this kind ; and herein
they might have learned from Galen, who, whatever ill
use he may have made of the doctrine of " natural facul-
ties," .nevertheless had the great merit of perceiving that
local forces play a great part in physiology.

The same truth was recognised by Grlisson, but it

was first prominently brought forward in the Hallerian

doctrine of the "vis insita" of muscles. If muscle can

contract without nerve, there is an end of the Cartesian

* " Be la Formation du Foetus."

34:8 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

mechanical explanation of its contraction by the influx
of animal spirits.

The discoveries of Trernbley tended in the same di-
rection. In the freshwater Hydra, no trace was to be
found of that complicated machinery upon which the
performance of the functions in the higher animals was
supposed to depend. And yet the hydra moved, fed
grew, multiplied, and its fragments exhibited all the
powers of the whole. And, finally, the work of Caspar
F. "Wolff,* by demonstrating the fact that the growth
and development of both plants and animals take place
antecedently to the existence of their grosser organs, and
are, in fact, the causes and not the consequences of or-
ganisation (as then understood), sapped the foundations
of the Cartesian physiology as a complete expression of
vital phenomena.

For Wolff, the physical basis of life is a fluid, pos-
sessed of a " vis essentialis " and a " solidescibilitas," in
virtue of which it gives rise to organisation ; and, as he
points out, this conclusion strikes at the root of the whole
iatro-mechanical system.

In this country, the great authority of John Hunter
exerted a similar influence ; though it must be admitted
that the too sibylline utterances which are the outcome
of Hunter's struggles to define his conceptions are often
susceptible of more than one interpretation. Neverthe-
less, on some points Hunter is clear enough. For exam-
ple, he is of opinion that " Spirit is only a property of

* "Theoria Generatlonis," 1769.

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AKD MEDICINE. 349

matter" ("Introduction to Natural History," p. 6), he is
prepared to renounce animism (Z. c. p. 8), and Ms con-
ception of life is so completely physical that he thinks
of it as something which can exist in a state of com-
bination in the food. " The aliment we take in has in
it, in a fixed state, the real life ; and this does not be-
come active until it has got into the lungs ; for there it
is freed from its prison" (" Observations on Physiol-
ogy," p. 113). He also thinks that "It is more in ac-
cord with the general principles of the animal machine
to suppose that none of its effects are produced from any
mechanical principle whatever ; and that every effect is
produced from an action in the part ; which action is pro-
duced by a stimulus upon the part which acts, or upon
some other part with which this part sympathises so as
to take up the whole action " (1. c. p. 152).

And Hunter is as clear as Wolff, with whose work
he was probably unacquainted, that "whatever life is,
it most certainly does not depend upon structure or or-
ganisation " (I. c. p. 114).

Of course it is impossible that Hunter could have in-
tended to deny the existence of purely mechanical opera-
tions in the animal body. But while, with Borelli and
Boerhaave, he looked upon absorption, nutrition, and se-
cretion as operations effected by means of the small ves-
sels, he differed from the mechanical physiologists, who
regarded these operations as the result of the mechanical
properties of the small vessels, such as the size, form,
and disposition of their canals and apertures. Hunter,

350 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

on the contrary, considers them to be the effect of prop-
erties of these vessels which are not mechanical but vi-
tal. " The vessels, 53 says he, " have more of the polypus
in them than any other part of the body," and he talks
of the "living and sensitive principles of the arteries,"
and even of the " dispositions or feelings of the arteries."
" When the blood is good and genuine the sensations of
the arteries, or the dispositions for sensation, are agree-
able. ... It is then they dispose of the blood to the
best advantage, increasing the growth of the whole,
supplying any losses, keeping up a due succession, etc."
(I c. p. 133).

If we follow Hunter's conceptions to their logical
issue, the life of one of the higher animals is essentially
the sum of the lives of all the vessels, each of which is
a sort of physiological unit, answering to a polype ; and,
as health is the result of the normal " action of the ves-
sels," so is disease an effect of their abnormal action.
Hunter thus stands in thought, as in time, midway be-
tween Borelli on the one hand, and Bichat on the other.

The acute founder of general anatomy, in fact, out-
does Hunter in his desire to exclude physical reason-
ings from the realm of life. Except in the interpreta-
tion of the action of the sense organs, he will not allow
physics to have anything to do with physiology.

" To apply the physical sciences to physiology is to
explain the phenomena of living bodies by the laws of
inert bodies. Now this is a false principle, hence all its
consequences are marked with the same stamp. Let us

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AOT) MEDICINE. 351

leave to chemistry its affinity; to physics, its elasticity
and its gravity. Let us invoke for physiology only sen-
sibility and contractility." *

Of all the unfortunate dicta of men of eminent abil-
ity this seems one of the most unhappy, when we think
of what the application of the methods and the data of
physics and chemistry has done towards bringing physi-
ology into its present state. It is not too much to say
that one half of a modern text-book of physiology con-
sists of applied physics and chemistry; and that it is
exactly in the exploration of the phenomena of sensi-
bility and contractility that physics and chemistry have
exerted the most potent influence.

Nevertheless, Bichat rendered a solid service to
physiological progress by insisting upon the fact that
what we call life, in one of the higher animals, is not
an indivisible unitary archseus dominating, from its cen-
tral seat, the parts of the organism, but a compound
result of the synthesis of the separate lives of those parts.

"All animals," says he, "are assemblages of differ-
ent organs, each of which performs its function and
concurs, after its fashion, in the preservation of the
whole. They are so many special machines in the
general machine which constitutes the individual. But
each of these special machines is itself compounded of
many tissues of very different natures, which in truth
constitute the elements of those organs " (L c. Ixxix.)
u The conception of a proper vitality is applicable only
* " Anatomic g6n&rale," i. p. liv.

352 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

to these simple tissues, and not to tlie organs them-
selves " (1. c. Ixxxiv.)

And Bichat proceeds to make the obvious applica-
tion of this doctrine of synthetic life, if I may so call
it, to pathology. Since diseases are only alterations of
vital properties, and the properties of each tissue are
distinct from those of the rest, it is evident that the
diseases of each tissue must be different from those of
the rest. Therefore, in any organ composed of differ-
ent tissues, one may be diseased and the other remain
healthy ; and this is what happens in most cases (Z. c.
Ixxxv.)

In a spirit of true prophecy, Bichat says, " We have
arrived at an epoch, in which pathological anatomy
should start afresh." For, as the analysis of the organs
had led him to the tissues, as the physiological units
of the organism ; so, in a succeeding generation, the
analysis of the tissues led to the cell as the physio-
logical element of the tissues. The contemporaneous
study of development brought out the same result;
and the zoologists and botanists, exploring the simplest
and the lowest forms of animated beings, confirmed the
great induction of the cell theory. Thus the appar-
ently opposed views, which have been battling with
one another ever since the middle of the last century,
have proved to be each half the truth.

The proposition of Descartes that the body of a
living man is a machine, the actions of which are ex-
plicable by the known laws of matter and motion, is

THE BIOLOGICAT SCIENCES A1STD MEDICINE. 353

unquestionably largely true. But it is also true, that
the living body is a synthesis of innumerable physio-
logical elements, each of which may nearly be described,
in "Wolff's words, as a fluid possessed of a " vis esssen-
tialis," and a " solidescibilitas " ; or, in modem phrase,
as protoplasm susceptible of structural metamorphosis
and functional metabolism : and that the only machin-
ery, in the precise sense in which the Cartesian school
understood mechanism, is, that which co-ordinates and
regulates these physiological units into an organic
whole.

In fact, the body is a machine of the nature of an
army, not of that of a watch or of a hydraulic appa-
ratus. Of this army each cell is a soldier, an organ a
brigade, the central nervous system headquarters and
field telegraph, the alimentary and circulatory system
the commissariat. Losses are made good by recruits
born in camp, and the life of the individual is a cam-
paign, conducted successfully for a number of years,
but with certain defeat in the long run.

The efficacy of an army, at any given moment, de-
pends on the health of the individual soldier, and on
the perfection of the machinery by which he is led
and brought into action at the proper time ; and,
therefore, if the analogy holds good, there can be only
two kinds of diseases, the one dependent on abnormal
states of the physiological units, the other on perturba-
tions of their co-ordinating and alimentative machinery.

Hence, the establishment of the cell theory, in nor-

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

mal biology, was swiftly followed by a " cellular pathol-
ogy," as its logical counterpart. I need not remind
you how great an instrument of investigation this doc-
trine has proved in the hands of the man of genius
to whom its development is due, and who would prob-
ably be the last to forget that abnormal conditions of
the co-ordinative and distributive machinery of the body
are no less important factors of disease.

Henceforward, as it appears to me, the connection
of medicine with the biological sciences is clearly de-
fined. Pure pathology is that branch of biology which
defines the particular perturbation of cell-life, or of the
co-ordinating machinery, or of both, on which the
phenomena of disease depend.

Those who are conversant with the present state of
biology will hardly hesitate to admit that the concep-
tion of the life of one of the higher animals as the sum-
mation of the lives of a cell aggregate, brought into
harmonious action by a co-ordinative machinery formed
by some of these cells, constitutes a permanent acqui-
sition of physiological science. But the last form of
the battle between the animistic and the physical views
of life is seen in the contention whether the physical
analysis of vital phenomena can be carried beyond this
point or not.

There are some to whom living protoplasm is a sub-
stance, even such as Harvey conceived the blood to be,
" summ& cum providentiA et intellectu in finem certum
agens, quasi ratiocinio quodam ; " and who look with

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDIODSTE. 355

as little favour as Bieliat did, upon any attempt to
apply tlie principles and the methods of physics and
chemistry to the investigation of the vital processes of
growth, metabolism, and contractility. They stand
upon the ancient ways ; only, in accordance with that
progress towards democracy, which a great political
writer has declared to be the fatal characteristic of
modern times, they substitute a republic formed by a
few billion of "animute" for the monarchy of the
all-pervading "anima."

Others, on the contrary, supported by a robust faith
in the universal applicability of the principles laid down
by Descartes, and seeing that the actions called " vital "
are, so far as we have any means of knowing, noth-
ing but changes of place of particles of matter, look
to molecular physics to achieve the analysis of the liv-
ing protoplasm itself into a molecular mechanism. If
there is any truth in the received doctrines of physics,
that contrast between living and inert matter, on which
Bichat lays so much stress, does not exist. In nature,
nothing is at rest, nothing is amorphous; the simplest
particle of that which men in their blindness are pleased
to call " brute matter " is a vast aggregate of molecular
mechanisms performing complicated movements of im-
mense rapidity, and sensitively adjusting themselves to
every change in the surrounding world. Living matter
differs from other matter in degree and not in kind;
the microcosm repeats the macrocosm; and one chain
of causation connects the nebulous original of suns

356 THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE.

and planetary systems with the protoplasmic foundation
of life and organisation.

From this point of view, pathology is the analogue
of the theory of perturbations in astronomy; and
therapeutics resolves itself into the discovery of the
means by which a system of forces competent to elimi-
nate any given perturbation may be introduced into the
economy. And, as pathology bases itself upon normal
physiology, so therapeutics rests upon pharmacology;
which is, strictly speaking, a part of the great biological
topic of the influence of conditions on the living organism,
and has no scientific foundation apart from physiology.

It appears to me that there is no more hopeful indica-
tion of the progress of medicine towards the ideal of
Descartes than is to be derived from a comparison of the
state of pharmacology, at the present day, with that
which existed forty years ago. If we consider the
knowledge positively acquired, in this short time, of the
modus operandi of urari, of atropia, of physostigmin, of
veratria, of casca, of strychnia, of bromide of potassium,
of phosphorus, there can surely be no ground for doubt-
ing that, sooner or later, the pharmacologist will supply
the physician with the means of affecting, in any desired
sense, the functions of any physiological element of the
body. It will, in short, become possible to introduce
into the economy a molecular mechanism which, like a
very cunningly-contrived torpedo, shall find its way to
some particular group of living elements, and cause an
explosion among them, leaving the rest untouched.

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES AND MEDICINE. 357

The search for the explanation of diseased states in
modified cell-life; the discovery of the important part
played by parasitic organisms in the aetiology of disease ;
the elucidation of the action of medicaments by the
methods and the data of experimental physiology; ap-
pear to me to be the greatest steps which have ever been
made towards the establishment of medicine on a scien-
tific basis. I need hardly say they could not have been
made except for the advance of normal biology.

There can be no question, then, as to the nature or
the value of the connection between medicine and the
biological sciences. There can be no doubt that the
future of pathology and of therapeutics, and, therefore,
that of practical medicine, depends upon the extent to
which those who occupy themselves with these subjects
are trained in the methods and impregnated with the
fundamental truths of biology.

And, in conclusion, I venture to suggest that the col-
lective sagacity of this Congress could occupy itself with
no more important question than with this: How is
medical education to be arranged, so that, without en-
tangling the student in those details of the systematist
which are valueless to him, he may be enabled to obtain
a firm grasp of the great truths respecting animal and
vegetable life, without which, notwithstanding all the
progress of scientific medicine, he will still find him-
self an empiric?

THE END*

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